


I Get Along Without You Very Well

by NotoriousHRC



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Billary, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 32,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotoriousHRC/pseuds/NotoriousHRC
Summary: It's the democratic primaries. The two opponents, a 5 term Governor from Arkansas and a 2 term Senator from New York.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Today was tough, so I had to post this first chapter. Godspeed America. (purely fiction)

The lights of the Democratic debate hall shown bright on the blue velvet stage, waiting to appear in thousands of homes across the US. The cameras were positioned in precisely the right spots to catch the candidates every movement and expression to be vigorously analyzed for years to come. Two podiums stood cocked at an angle so they were slightly facing each other, one a few inches shorter than the other. The presidential eagle sat in the center of the wall, ready to keep the peace between the two brutal debaters.

The crew was finally feeling comfortable with their preparation and set up. They were all in their places, like a stage show, ready for the curtain to rise. The audience was seated and the din in the room felt like a hot pot of steaming water, ready to boil. This much anticipated night was sure to be tense and invigorating. The moderator in his place, waited for his cue to begin.

“Good evening from the University of Pennsylvania. I'm Anderson Cooper of CNN and I welcome you to the first democratic presidential debate. This debate is sponsored by the Commission on Presidential Debates and the Democratic National Committee. The commission has designed the format. Four roughly 15-minute segments, with two minute answers to the first question then open discussion for the rest of each segment. Both campaigns have agreed to those rules. None of the questions have been shared with either of the two candidates. The audience here in the hall has promised to remain silent. No cheers, boos or other interruptions so we and you can focus on what the candidates have to say. No noise except right now as we welcome the potential Democratic Candidates for President.”

He knew he would be called first and could barely hear their names from his spinning head. He was so ready. He lived for this. He felt the adrenaline building all day, the thrill of the game. He loved the political banter that made debates interesting, and he usually won. But this opponent would prove a challenge to his skills, and he knew that. His heart was pumping faster and faster as the moment finally arrived. He stepped onto the stage to a roaring applause for both he and his opponent. The small studio was absolutely packed with enthusiastic democrats, pulling for their candidate of choice.

He raised his hand, waving to the crowd. He heard a faint “CLINTON, CLINTON,” cheer rising from a corner of people. He paid them special attention with a nod and placed his hand over his heart. As soon as he did, he heard his opponent’s name ring from another group of people.

He caught a glimpse of his family; his mother, brother, and his girl, very soon to be his fiancée. Not known yet by anyone except his mother, he had a gold diamond ring picked out and would ask her during this campaign and announce their engagement when he needed a boost in the polls. But political strategy had nothing to do with his motives for marrying her, at least that’s what he kept telling himself. He turned from the audience to the center of the stage, his confident steps taking him there.

Across the room, he met the steady blue eyes of his opponent, also walking to the center. They stared each other down with obvious fake pleasant expressions. His opponent was the first to reach out. He took the offered hand in his large firm grip. His opponent also had a surprisingly strong grip as his hand was shook and released. His challenger turned back to the viewers.

He studied his rival; black sensible shoes, a dark blue suit with a pin on the lapel, eyes gentle but firm, appealing to the nation and exuding strength. But he knew those dark, telling eyes better than to only look at what was on the surface. He turned to the audience waiting to be introduced.

The crowd died down and the moderator spoke. “He’s been the democratic governor of Arkansas for 12 years, Governor Bill Clinton.”

The applause lifted him as he stepped forward to accept their support. Silently mouthing, ‘thank you,’ he made sure to make eye contact and connect with as many people only appearing partly enthusiastic. He had the uncanny ability to charm even the hardest opposers, and he was not hesitant to use that gift.

“And from New York,” the moderator quieted the crowd. “A two term Senator, Senator Hillary Rodham.”

He fell back, letting her take the spotlight. He watched her gracefully step to the edge of the stage and raise her right hand, her million dollar smile shining for all to see. She scanned her eyes to every corner of the room acknowledging all who came. Stepping back before the applause ended, she was ready to get on with the debate.

“And now, we shall begin. Candidates, please take your podiums.”

They both turned towards the center of the stage. He caught her eyes for a split second. He had seen that expression before. She was ready for battle and he was prepared to bring it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments. I'm so happy people are excited about this story! I will (hopefully) be posting daily. My policy knowledge does NOT go nearly as deep as Bill and Hill, but I included some. Also, it's really hard to separate their views because they are always so in tandem. Once again, purely fiction!

He felt great; cool and confident. He made his arguments well and brought up some valid points he was sure she never considered. It was a fair fought debate on important issues. Though, even he had to admit, she had him on the issue of preschool education. He would have to look deeper into his plan to match hers. She was extremely knowledgable, but he already knew that. So was he, but he had his charm and personal connections to really draw in his supporters.

“That concludes this first democratic presidential debate. On behalf of the network, I thank you for watching. There are two more debates scheduled in the upcoming weeks and I invite you to tune in as the race for the presidency draws closer. Thank you and goodnight.”

He turned to Senator Rodham and stuck out his hand. She looked up at him with her captivating blue eyes and her tight smile. He would describe her large blue orbs as captivating, after all they held him captivated oh so many years ago.

If he didn’t have millions of viewers watching his every move, he may have allowed himself to indulge in her longer. Instead, he released her hand and made his way to greet the crowd. She did the same.

Neither wanted to be the first one to leave the room. For some reason, it felt like the person who cared the most would stay the longest. After a full hour of shaking hands, taking photos, and inconspicuously glancing at their opponent to see if he or she was tiring, she finally gave in. She was emotionally drained.

She walked through the side door leading behind the stage, through the hallway, and back to where their campaigns were waiting for them. Before facing all those congratulations and approvals, she faced the back wall and took a few relaxing breaths. She inhaled fresh air and exhaled all the tension and the facade she had built up. Her sore shoulders were finally able to stretch. With a steadying hand against the wall, she slid off her heels, giving her feet a chance to breath as well.

So completely in her own mind, she didn’t hear the presence walking behind her until he chuckled at her stance.

She turned fully to meet him, standing proudly in stocking feet.

“Senator Rodham,” he nodded.

“Governor Clinton,” she copied his phrasing.

“Congratulations tonight. I thought it was a fair and well fought debate.”

She nodded. “I agree, and… congratulations to you as well.”

He nodded, lost at what to say next.

She saved him. “I saw your mother and brother. Rodger sure has changed, hasn’t he?”

He genuinely smiled, thinking of the first time he introduced her to his family. Boy, were they shocked. “He has. Grown a bit I guess, and now married. That boy of his sure looks like he did at that age.”

She smirked. “He is a cutie.”

“And how’s Dorothy? I heard she wasn’t feeling well enough to come.”

She confirmed what he heard. “Yes, it looks like a cold, but she didn’t want to risk anything.”

He nodded, shuffling his feet and bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “You brought up some hard hits on preschool education.”

She inhaled, ready to debate again. “Yes I did. This has been my main focus for so many years and I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating and scrutinizing the most comprehensive policies for their future.” She watched him. He listened intently to what she had to say. She could tell he was genuinely interested.

“But why make that such a talking point? There are at least ten other crucial issues facing our country today that are far greater than preschool education.”

She drew her eyebrows together, staring down this insufferable man who had all the potential to be a great leader and public servant. She knew that then and still saw that in him. But she could tell his advisors were narrow minded, and that reflected in his question.

“Bill…” she began without thinking, the name coming out naturally. “Governor Clinton… studies show that children with preschool education are less likely to drop out of school, become teen parents, and be arrested. These preschoolers are 60% more likely to go to college. And I think that is an extremely important message to spread.”

He couldn’t argue with that. It was also a great strategy to bring in women supporters. She always was smarter than him and he knew when to stop talking.

“I have a serious question for you,” she stared him down. “Do you really believe that you can cut the uninsured percentage in half within 2 years?”

“Absolutely!” he assured her. “With legislation beginning in the first 30 days and when my plan is implemented…”

“That’s just it,” she interrupted. “Your plan doesn’t show lasting, permanent solutions or stability.”

He quirked his head, never before being challenged on this. “Of course it does! By increasing the taxes on the top percent…”

“And what happens when drug prices skyrocket because of the lack of diverse manufacturers? Health care costs spike and there is no way to pay without going into debt.”

He scoffed. “That won’t happen!”

She countered raising her voice, floored he hadn’t already considered this. “It’s already happening! Children’s vaccine costs have tripled in the past 10 years and the curve is only set to continue without new legislation.”

He tightened his lips together. “Alright, Hilly…”

Voice cold, she threatened him. “Don’t call me that!”

He struck a nerve. “Alright, Senator Rodham,” he exaggerated. “Tell me how your plan is any better.”

She raised her head, more than happy to talk policy. “Create a market for investors, incentives for drug companies, and encourage open trading. The people pay a percentage of what they can afford and the government takes care of the rest. The money continues to flow as does the coverage.”

He challenged again. “And the numbers work out?”

“Of course they do! Do you think I would slip on my research?”

He relaxed his tense body. “I know you, and no you wouldn’t.”

She finally looked at him, really looked at him. He had changed so much and yet not at all. His bushy red hair was now a thick, trimmed gray. His face sported a few more wrinkles and deep set lines, especially under his eyes. His body was certainly fuller, but not in a bad way. And his hands; his fingers still long and slender, his wrists curving with a certain grace. She remembered those hands, still remembered what they felt like, how they moved, curled around a pen, the page of a book, her long silky hair, and caressing the skin from her hip to her chest.

His mind was as sharp as ever, that much was clear from the debate. And his people skills was always top notch. She was slightly disappointed in his seemingly lack of focus and background research on certain issues, but he was always quick to get himself out of a potentially revealing situation with a few charming words. And it worked too, most of the time. Every time, except with her. She didn’t let him get away so easily. She always challenged him, pushed him.

She shook her head, bringing herself out of her trance. “I’ll see you at the next debate.”

He took a step away from her. “If I don’t see you before.”

“Hum?” she questioned.

“Are you going to that charity dinner for the Human Rights Committee?” he turned once again to face her.

She nodded her head. “I guess I’ll see you there then.”

“I guess you will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! Your great interest has made me really concentrate on this story and constantly reread what I've already written. Once again, Purely Fiction!

“Our top story of the hour is, of course, the first democratic presidential debate between Governor Clinton and Senator Rodham. This much anticipated event is the first time the two met as candidates and their first exchange of policy discussion. The wide range of topics covered gave the American voters a good overview of the two candidates.”

He sat in his hotel room, flicking through the different news stations trying to get a perception of the public opinions from the previous night.

“The biggest takeaway from this debate seems to be the public reaction. It is very evenly split as to who the voters thought won the debate. Top Clinton supporters described his performance as effortless, understanding, and easy to relate with. Top Rodham supporters praised her intellect, attention to detail, and her intricate policies. I think we can all agree, they certainly are evenly matched. Both Yale grads attending school together for three years. The two did meet in passing, but were only in one class together, as they have both been quoted saying.”

Bill cringed. He hated to lie, even if it was only bending the truth.

“Senator Rodham held the floor for the education portion, laying out her vision of an education system shining a new light on the importance of preschool education. She highlighted her vast experience in this area working with the Children’s Defense Fund and the HIPPY program. The topic, very appealing to women, also…”

He flicked it off and leaned back in his chair. Hillary Rodham. The name haunted him, the memories taunted him, and now she was back in his life more present and tangible than she had been in years. He wasn’t ready, wasn’t emotionally prepared or capable of self-control. Not when it came to her. Nothing made sense when it came to her. That day she came up to him in the Yale Law Library shook his world and sent it spinning. Nothing about his life had ever been the same.

He married a year after graduating. Married then divorced to a woman he had known since high school with a father in the Arkansas Senate. Pretty hair, sleek hips, and solely financial demands. With a settlement, they parted indifferently after he got what he wanted, the governorship. There had been others since, but his new girlfriend seemed to have a level head and looked good on his arm. There was no reason not to ask her to marry him. Well, maybe one reason.

He shook his head as Miss Rodham planted herself there, as she had been doing for the past 20 years and, it seemed, would continue to do so. After all, he was due to sit next to her at a Charity dinner the next evening.

* * *

The room was filled with political powerhouses and champagne, quite the combination. The golden door arches of the Washington ballroom hung over the couples entering to the splendor. The chandeliers shined their brilliant lights, reflecting off of every crystal and illuminating every corner of the room. The women were decked out in their finest and the gentlemen wore a doting lady proudly on his arm. If they had to donate so much for tickets, they were adamant to look their best for the photos that were sure to come from the night.

He entered without any said lady as an ornament. He was an outsider, a governor from the small state of Arkansas where nobody scrutinized his accent or his charm. He was eager to make connections in Washington and he knew the importance of that task in order to make it in there. That was his number one goal for the evening, to talk to as many people as possible. Grabbing a full glass from a passing waiter, he began his mission.

* * *

She was running late, as was usual for these things. She didn’t see why it had to take her so long to get ready. She always gave herself one hour to shower, dress, and apply makeup. That was all the time she really needed, but it was not enough time for her female aides to finish with her. She must have tried on at least 7 different dresses before they found one they deemed suitable. It was a patterned deep blue with cap sleeves and an A-line skirt flaring out at her shapely hips. It was a beautiful, professional dress with one surprise; a neckline with a slit that went down to her cleavage. She would usually protest this, but she was so ready to get away from her aides that she was willing to compromise. Her hair and makeup also held her up, taking over an hour to perfect even that.

The struggle to get there in a semi timely manner was already stressing her out and now she would have to chat with dignitaries for the next few hours. Living in Washington for the past 8 years, she knew most of the people who would be present. She taught herself to work a room. It hadn’t come naturally to her, but she knew the importance of that task in order to make it in Washington. That was her number one goal for the evening, to talk to as many people as possible. She glided through the golden arch, making her entrance, telling the room she was present.

* * *

He saw her enter. Of course he did, she was his sixth sense. His deep conversation with a few very important Democratic Senators suddenly seemed extremely unimportant. Her smile was a mile wide, almost too wide. But she carried herself with such confidence and elegance, he couldn’t help but smile thinking of how much she had changed and grown since he first met her. Her natural brilliance was given a powerful platform to shine, exactly what someone with her heart and mind deserved. He was so proud of her.

She shook a few guests hands and kissed a few on the cheeks as she made her way to her table. He watched as she removed her shaw, revealing her bare arms. She laid her shaw over the back of her chair and took a look at the seating cards around her. Even he could see her briefly scrunched nose as she took in the Republican house member’s name to her right. She then looked to the card on her left. He watched her lift her head and scan the room. He kept his eyes on her, ready to catch hers. She finally saw him. Her lips curved in a small smile of acknowledgement. He returned it.

“Good evening,” their host came over the microphone. “If you would all take your seats, we will begin our dinner.”

He excused himself from the company and made his way to his table, to her side. He stood behind his chair and shook the hands of their other dinner guests. He then turned to his dinner partner. “I guess they put the two unaccompanied souls together,” he joked.

She snickered, catching his eye. “I’ll remember that for next time. Your um… friend couldn’t make it?”

He shook his head at her inquiry. “No, she had a family event already planned.”

She, trying to appear nonchalant, listened and processed this knowledge intently.

“Senator,” he pulled out her chair for her and she sat down. The title was a ‘hats off’ moment to her success.

“Thank you, Governor.” She, of course, understood him.

Their host drew the room’s attention to thank them for coming and supporting their Human Rights charities. “I would especially like to thank both democratic candidates for clearing time in their busy schedules to attend.” The room turned to them and gave them both recognition. “I see they’ve been seated together which, I would like to make clear, was absolutely not my idea.” The audience could tell he was joking. The two butts of the joke rolled their eyes and played along. “Sam,” he addressed another member at their table. “Keep them from killing each other.” The Congressman gave him a thumbs up, playing along. He ended by announcing the start of dinner and the room erupted in cordial chatter.

“I think our host is trying to get back at me for my criticisms of his organizational skills.” He placed his napkin over his knee. “My ticket for this thing was two weeks late.”

“Oh really?” she laughed. “I think he’s getting back at me because I once said I didn’t like his hair cut.”

Clinton chuckled at that image. “And I’m sure he’s had absolutely no comments on your hair over the years…”

“HA!” she exclaimed, lifting her champagne glass. “Lets drink to our uncanny abilities to piss people off.”

“I want in on that.” He grabbed his glass and raised it towards hers before bringing it to his lips. He smacked his lips, lowering the glass. “That’s extremely bubbly. You’re not gonna like it.”

Her lips puckered and her face clenched. “You’re right.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and tried to clear the taste with a sip of water. “I will always prefer wine to champagne.”

“I wonder if they have any…” He leaned back, scanning the room for a waiter. “Excuse me,” he raised his hand to stop one. “Do you have any wine?”

The young waiter nodded. “We have Chardonnay, Pinot Blanc, and Merlot.”

The governor nodded hearing the one he knew she liked. “We’ll have one…”

Realizing what he was doing he stopped himself to look at her. Instead of looking annoyed at his intrusion, she rested her head on her balled fists and raised her eyebrows in challenge, testing his memory. He took the dare.

“One glass of Chardonnay, please.”

“Right away,” the waiter said exiting towards the kitchen.

“I’m impressed,” she admitted.

“Impressed, or disappointed that I have a superior memory?” he questioned both as a joke and as a real inquiry.

“Definitely impressed,” she argued lightly. “And I’m sure that word superior was just a slip of the tongue as that is not at all how I recall it.”

He conceded. “I will relent as I don’t want to have to debate with you until absolutely necessary.”

“I’ll drink to that.” She sat back while another waiter brought her wine and their first course, a salad with a light dressing. “What are your thoughts on the latest jobs report?”

He took a bite and chewed before addressing her question. “Definitely promising. My concern is that the jobs currently sustaining millions of Americans won’t be around in the next 10 years.”

She nodded completely understanding. “It’s amazing how technology and innovation is so widely praised, then when reality hits and people realize man produced goods are on their way out, they have something new to gripe about.”

“Exactly,” he chuckled. “Of course the answer is simple. Create new jobs with tech innovations in mind.”

She nodded. “Of course it all starts with education. More tech oriented degrees that have demands for more people. Increased trainings for industrial jobs that are available.”

He swallowed another bite of salad. “That way the next generation is prepared for the world they will inherit and not behind the times still waiting for a manufacturing job that has long since been replaced by a machine.”

She looked up from her food. “Have you looked into any federal plans that could make this discussion reality?”

He lifted his head to look back at her. Genuine curiosity poured from her eyes. It wasn’t too often that look came upon him. He usually talked friend’s ears off when they had no yearn for his lengthy response anyway. But he knew she was different. “I have.” He laid his fork down and began their seemingly endless conversation.

They talked education during the first course. When the chicken and pasta came, it was onto foreign policy. They exchanged their vast knowledge of the middle east conflicts, what they heard, what they read in their incredibly expansive collections of books, and how they thought best to move forward. Dessert brought on health care and that lasted well into the dancing as well. They seemed unaware that their other dinner companions had already moved to the dance floor, as did the majority of the room. They were also unaware of the looks they were getting. Every time a friend or acquaintance would walk towards them to talk, he or she would halt upon seeing the intense and passionate discussions the two were engaged in. It was easier to let them go and gossip about it with others.

“It’s a bear, but necessary for the American people.” He finished his champagne and reached for her still full glass.

“And the fiscal possibilities are another incredible argument in our favor.” She finished her wine and casually reached for the uneaten maraschino cherry on his plate, popping it into her mouth.

He full on laughed. “You should hear me try and make that argument to the Republicans in the Arkansas congress.”

She joined it his merriment. “Try it with Washington Senators.”

He sat forward, still in hysterics. “Even my ex-father in law, a democrat, couldn’t understand my argument.”

She continued laughing, only for appearance sake. That sudden reality check was like a cold bucket of water being dumped over her sunny day. She took a last bite of her dessert and wiped her mouth gently with her napkin.

He noticed her sudden 180 turn, of course he did. He sipped on more champagne, thinking his way out of the sudden awkward moment. “Well, at least you don’t have an ex-father in law to oppose you.”

He immediately regretted that thoughtless statement when he saw her eyebrows turn into a ‘v’ and shoot her eyes back at him. “Well that certainly didn’t help ease the atmosphere.”

She was right. “I am curious,” he proceeded with caution. “You’ve never married, but was there anyone who came close?”

She should laugh at the absurdity of the question coming from him. But her lips were too loose, the evening too relaxed, and he had her more at ease than she had been in months. “You know that State Department official I was dating?”

He opened his mouth and nodded. It was widely known they were seeing each other.

She fiddled with her napkin, her eyes focused on the wall on the other side of the room. “We dated for 2 years. Just as I was waiting for a proposal, I found out he was seeing another woman.”

His heart collapsed. This hit home. He lowered his head, suddenly wishing he never prodded. How does one un-learn information?

“I thought he loved me,” she continued, very aware of what she was doing to the man beside her. “Turns out, he loved another. He married her not six months after we broke up.” She huffed. “It seems like I bring that out in men.”

He finally raised his head to look at her. Her unwavering eyes hiding the hurt he knew was there. And he owned a part of that hurt.

“Hilly,” he whispered, causing her to turn her attention from the wall to her hands in her lap. “I am so sorry.” His apology sincere and the ownership of his actions authentic. “That last trip to England, I told you…”

“It’s done now, Bill.” She cut him off with a discussion-ending tone. “It’s done and over, so let’s move on.”

He drew his lips between his teeth. It was over.

She scooted her chair back. “I think I’ll make my rounds. There are a couple of Senators who are probably having a much more pleasant evening without me nagging them for this and that.”

He was confused by her statement. “Why would they not want to talk with you?”

She shook her head in unfortunate acceptance. “I’m a strong willed woman with a sharp tongue in Washington. Who wants to listen to that all evening?”

He cleared his throat, making her look into his eyes. He hoped to convey the absolute truth in his words. “I’m sure you can think of someone who would revel in your company and discussion, even if it is so fleeting as one evening.”

He knew he reached her. She sat still, unable to decide whether to move or stay in the moment. He stared back, not wanting to watch her walk away… again.

“Can I have your attention one last time.” The host’s microphone announcement pulled their attention from each other. “I want to thank you all once again for your donations and for your continued support. I hope you all have safe travels. Goodnight.”

Turning to their watches, they were both shocked at the late hour. It was past midnight. The crowds returned to their tables to gather their things and say their goodbyes.

“I guess we meet again next week,” he said, rising quickly to pull back her chair.

“I guess so.” She grabbed her shaw and threw it over her shoulder. “I look forward to it.” And with that, she disappeared into the crowd.

He stood there for a minute, unable to fully comprehend the flow of the evening. His goal was to talk with as many elites as he could find ears willing to listen. As it turned out, he only solicited one pair of ears, those of his opponent! It seemed okay to start their discussion, they were dinner partners after all, but why didn’t he excuse himself to work the room? How could he be so drawn in that he completely neglected doing what he had to do to climb his way to the presidency? Something had to change.

As his mind spun, he reached to the table and found a half empty champagne flute. He raised it to his lips and downed the rest, now very flat. As he lowered it, his attention turned to the side of the flute where a fading red lip stain refused to be erased.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your comments and support! I'm pretty excited about this chapter... Purely Fiction!

She entered the studio, very off. Almost always solid and unwavering under pressure, she was shook and she couldn't pin point why. It was just another debate. She was in her element in this arena.

She lived for the policy work and loved to discuss it, argue over it. The dialogue made her a better public servant and a better Senator. She just wished she didn’t have to put up with the constant criticism from the press and her fellow Senators about her outspoken ways. “Unapproachable,” “bionic,” and “shrieking voice” were her daily criticisms. She continued to search for someone who wasn’t intimidated by her.

“Senator, are you ready?” her aide asked, gesturing to the stage entrance.

She exhaled a shallow breath. “I have no choice. I have to be ready.”

The aide nodded, worried about her mindset. “Senator, get your mind in the game. People are counting on you….”

The aide’s voice faded into the back of Senator Rodham’s mind. The TV in their dressing room flashed a picture of her opponent as the pre-debate coverage continued.

“… new development tonight, there will be a First Lady if Governor Clinton is elected. He announced earlier today that he is now engaged to his girlfriend of one year…”

She flicked off the TV, not wanting to hear the story repeated.

Another aide entered. “Senator Rodham, one minute warning.”

She tried to pull herself together, but she knew there were more than a few pieces missing. She checked herself in the mirror to make sure her mask was on properly: plastered smile, shining eyes, and rosy cheeks. Underneath, she was in turmoil and she didn’t know why, or she wasn’t willing to admit to why she was so upset.

“Senator.”

“I’m ready.” She walked to her place on stage right, mind ready, heart anything but.

* * *

“… and so I see healthcare as the number one priority during my administration.” She finished her argument with a finality. She was certainly more cutting during round 2, less concerned about being likable and more willing to let her passions drive her speech.

“Thank you, Senator,” the moderator concluded the previous segment and was ready to move onto the next one. “Lets pivot to jobs in the US. Where do you see the new wave of jobs coming from in the future and what will you do to ensure those jobs are filled? Governor Clinton, you have the first response.”

Governor Clinton started his response mentioning the surge of technology jobs, as she was sure he would. “There is also a large market in construction jobs right here. We have roads to fix, airports to repair, and bridges that need updating. There are so many jobs that benefit Americans right here at home and those can’t be outsourced to Mexico or anywhere in Asia.” He turned to a personal story. “My fiancée was driving just the other day in Pennsylvania and hit a nasty pot hole that destroyed her tire…”

Senator Rodham unconsciously increased her blinking. She felt a tightness in her chest that was becoming more and more unbearable.

“Senator Rodham, you have two minutes.”

She was startled from her daze. And began her answer the same way that he did, tech jobs. Then, a new switch flicked in her mind. “But…” she continued. “I do find it interesting that Governor Clinton would bring up road construction as a new job source. The Federal Roads Commission has rated his home state of Arkansas in the bottom 10 states as far as road maintenance, new road construction, and bridge repair. So I’m not sure how that qualifies him to oversee these new plans he promises.”

She could feel her rival’s frustration. She secretly knew how hard he pushed his congress for a state plan, but she wasn’t about to make that argument in his favor.

“Senator Rodham,” he started his retort, going on immediate defense. She knew he didn’t have the discipline to let her comment slide. “I will have you know I pushed extremely hard for that legislation. I had a written plan all in place…”

She interrupted. “Well, the plan must have had quite a few flaws for your congress to not even consider it.”

He was clearly taken aback by her forcefulness. Clean debate? It was clear that was not the tone that night. “So Senator, where is New York on that state list?”

“12th,” she answered confidently.

“And where was New York on that list 8 years ago, when you began your term as Senator?” He had her. She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, not willing to answer. “Number 7. New York was number 7.”

She drew her eyes together, focused on calming her boiling blood.

“But, I’m not surprised that you didn’t realize the deteriorating conditions as you pay a fancy chauffeur to drive you everywhere…”

“Oh Governor,” she bursted into a loud intimidating laugh. “You are just the person to talk about personal driving experiences.” She went for the kill. “I think the voters have a right to know about your car accident back in 1973 due to reckless driving.”

He was stunned. He managed to burry that episode in his life, chalked it up to stupidity of youth. Now it was rehashed in a political campaign.

“So I’ll take my New York roads over a record like that any day and I think New Yorkers and the American people will agree with me.” She didn’t even have a point to make with that statement, but she needed to say something, anything to fire back.

He swallowed and shuffled his feet. He turned towards her, straightening up unconsciously. “Your home state… Senator Rodham, why did you choose to move to New York after graduating?”

She turned, unconsciously standing at her full height. “I had always liked the area, the people, and the opportunities for practicing law…”

He stuck his finger at her. “That’s not true Hillary Diane and you know it!”

She was taken aback at his accusation. “Excuse me…”

“You wanted to stay in Washington, but you didn’t pass the DC bar exam. You passed in New York and so here you are…”

“Senator Rodham! Governor Clinton!” The moderator repeated their names trying to take back control of the debate, but they were too far gone.

“William Jefferson…” she gritted.

“… and you know that accident was not my fault…”

“… No? Now hold on, I wasn’t driving the car…”

“Senator Rodham! Governor Clinton! I’m afraid this has gotten out of hand!” He finally got them to stop their argument. “I would like to remind you that we are engaged in a civil debate over ideas and issues. And I think we all need a reminder of that.”

She couldn’t believe that just happened

* * *

“What the hell was that!” He stormed after her, keeping up with her furious pace. The debate ended with the tension still building, but they managed to get through it, though both immediately exited the stage.

She didn’t want to talk with him, much less argue again, and in front of their staff backstage.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Hillary Rodham!” He reached for her arm and turned her towards him.

She shot a dark look at him and yanked her arm away. But his persistence paid off. “How dare you bring up my DC bar…”

“How dare I? Look, you’re the one who started it…”

“That accident is on your public record. Anyone could have looked it up!”

“And now, everyone will be scrutinizing it!” He ran his hands through his hair. “And you know what they’ll find?”

Her jaw went slack and her eyes darted around the room. “Oh God.” As she scanned the room, she realized all their aides were pressed against the walls, staring with confused expressions at their bosses. “Can you give Bill…” she cleared her throat, “…Governor Clinton and I a moment?” They stayed where they were. “Now, please!” She said more forcefully.

Her staff recognized the commanding tone and moved to the halls. His staff was waiting for their own order.

“Go! Now!” He shooed the rest away, leaving them alone as the door sealed them together.

They faced off, seething, their open wounds so fresh. Their cuts were deep, only the other person could hurt the other to this degree. He stood firm with his arm crossed and his hand propping up his chin. She stood opposite with her hands fixed on her hips and her fingers tapping against her suit.

He broke the silence. “Where do we even begin…”

“They’ll find out,” she sighed, quieter than she expected. “When they look into your records, they’ll find out I was in the car with you… Damn it!”

He lifted his hands, shrugging with helplessness. “Well, what can we do about it?”

She started pacing the length of the room. “Oh God! I thought we could get through this without anybody ever knowing.”

He looked at her surprised. “Hilly, really? There are certainly picture out there and I’m sure some of our Yale friends would have blabbed to the press eventually.” He bit the side of his tongue, trying to hold in his next retort to no avail. “But you beat them to it. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

Of course she didn’t, but she tried anyway. She glared at him. “Well if you had only watched where you were going, you wouldn’t have run into that side rail and this entire mess would have been avoided.”

Bill ran his fingers over the top of his head and back to his neck, exasperated by her persistence. “Stop blaming that on me! You were the one distracting me!”

“Really Billy?” She stepped closer to his space, voice raising with each question and accusation. “How was I distracting you?”

“You know perfectly well what you were doing!” He guffawed dryly. “I know you. Your memory is impressive.”

“And that is the smartest thing you said all evening. Yes it is impressive, William Jefferson Blythe Clinton. There is so much more I could share,” she threatened walking past him. He stopped her with a hand to her arm and pulled her in front of him, forcing her to face him.

“And there is so much more I could tell as well, Hillary… Diane…” He drew out her name at an incredibly slow and deliberate pace. “Rodham… and it should have ended… Clinton.”

When the last word exited his lips, she yanked her arm down with all her strength. “Don’t do this, Billy. Let me go!” she ordered, to no avail.

He moved his other hand to her arm, pinning it down. “You left me…” he gritted.

“You cheated on me…” she spat. “Even after you promised to stop. Even after you made that great charade of going to a counselor, and dragging me along with you…”

He shook her shoulders. “I didn’t cheat on you… not after the counseling. I told you those sessions really helped and I wanted to continue them with you…” He became angry again. “Then you left me…”

“No! I didn’t leave you!” she retorted.

He fought for his next words, finding them bitter in his mouth. “I asked you to marry me and you turned me down.”

“I wasn’t ready!” She tried pounding on his chest to get away. “I wasn’t ready, I needed to think about it!” She gave one great heave and he released her. She took a half step back, her breathing heavy from her struggle.

“You left me!” He repeated pointing a finger at her.

“I was always going to come back. I just needed time.” Her voice deescalated before rising again to it’s full volume. “And when I came back you were already sleeping with another bimbo…”

“Because you left me!”

“I didn’t leave you!” She yelled for the last time. “I loved you!”

“And I loved you!” he declared right back.

“Really?” she exhaled.

“Oh, yea,” he panted.

She would lie later when she tried to convince herself that she didn’t make the first move. She did.

Reaching out for him, she grabbed his neck, pulling his head to hers and locking her lips around his. He very quickly added his teeth and tongue to their meeting making them both moan into the other’s mouth. Her arms tightened around his neck as his arms grabbed her waist. He bent his knees and pulled her tighter, lifting her body flush against his and leaving her toes floating off the ground. Her fingers traveled through the nape of his neck, to his thick graying hair, and to his freshly shaven cheeks. She pulled his mouth tighter against her own, her teeth grinding against his.

Her intensified response spurred him to a new level. He released his grip on her waist, slowly letting the length of her body slide down his. He moved his pawing hands over her body, intent on making her feel his presence everywhere. His right hand stroked down her lower back and over her bottom taking a moment to appreciate it’s luscious shape. He moved down further and caught the back of her leg in his palm, lifting it against his own. That action received another mew of pleasure from the woman currently raking her nails down his chest. He allowed his other hand to forge a path up her side and over her chest, squeezing any part of her he could grip.

He felt her nails scrape all the way to his stomach before her palms clung to his hips, grinding them against hers. A groan rose from deep in his throat as he felt her hands ring around his hips and clutch his bottom.

Somewhere in his intoxicated mind, he remembered he had a fiancée.

“Hilly… stop,” he managed to break free from her lips. “Honey…” He held her at arms length, both gasping for air.

She felt her hot skin cool back to it’s icy temperature in record time. Turning her head to look at his eyes, she saw too much:

The man who was oh so easy to love since that first moment she met him in the Yale Law library. The only man who wasn’t intimidated by her intelligence. Who followed her blindly to California only a month after they started dating. Who filled her nights with passion, her days with adventure, and endless conversation in-between.

She saw the man who came home to her after messing around with another woman. Who begged on his knees for forgiveness, begged for her not to leave. Who fought with her tirelessly over policy, politics, and personal matters.

She saw the man who asked her to marry him, who she loved with all her heart. She saw her future with this man, she wanted it to be him, but it wasn’t meant to be.

She tore her gaze and rushed to the door, seizing it open and disappearing to the other side.

He was left motionless, stunned, watching her run away from him, again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but moving the plot along. I have a question for all willing to answer. Who do you think would win in an election between the two of them? In real life and in this story? I'm curious... Please comment! (Once again Purely Fiction)

“New revelations following the debate of the century last night are leaving the country stunned. Democratic Presidential Candidates Rodham and Clinton exchanged deep cutting blows last night as the debate turned personal.

“Upon looking into the files on Governor Clinton’s alleged car accident, we can now confirm them to be true. In 1973 when he was still in college, Governor Clinton skidded off the road and into a guard rail. Both himself and the passenger suffered only minor scrapes, but the most ironic piece of this story is the identity of the passenger, one Hillary Rodham. Yes, his current opponent. It seems they were closer than any of us thought or expected. A few of their Yale classmates have come forward this morning to confirm that Governor Clinton and Senator Rodham did in fact have quite a love affair. They dated and shared an apartment from at least 1971 until they graduated in 1973. Their relationship after that is unknown, though Governor Clinton married his first wife almost a year later in 1974.

“Where this leaves the presidential race, one can only speculate, but it does raise a litany of new questions that will hopefully be answered by the candidates very soon.”

* * *

“Shit!” She slammed the remote against the coffee table, regretting it a moment later when she realized she was still at the hotel and that table was not hers to destroy.

The doors this revelation opened were innumerable: Blackmail, endless gossip, photos, personal stories both true and made up. They needed a plan.

She had been contemplating this phone call all night, and now that it was morning, she knew she had to do it.

After having an aide check in and sweet talk at the front desk, she got the right room number.

Dialing the hotel phone quickly to get this over with, she then waited for an answer.

“Hello.”

It was certainly not him, but she was glad to hear the male voice of his top aide. “Mr. Stephanopoulos, I need to talk to the Governor.”

“Senator Rodham?” he questioned, his voice raising to an incredible pitch.

“Yes, it’s me. Now pop your eyes back in their sockets and tell the Governor I need to speak with him.”

She heard a shuffle on the other end and then finally his stuttering voice.

“Good morning…To what do I owe…”

“Bill, we have to talk.” She didn’t let him finish his undoubtably charming greeting.

“How’d you find my room number?” he questioned, more curious than angry.

“Does it matter? We need to figure this thing out.”

He looked at his watch. “I’m leaving in 20 minutes, so it’ll have to be quick.”

“That’s enough time, I’ll meet you in the back stairway in 5 minutes.” And she hung up.

“Hillary?” He sat up from the hotel desk chair. “Hill?” A sort of guilty panic settled in his stomach. “Oh dear God!” He ran his hand over his face. He didn’t think he was ready to face her again.

* * *

5 minutes later, he was at the back stairwell and walked through the door when her secret service agent opened it. She was clearly pacing before he entered and turned to meet him, distress obviously showing on her face.

“What do we tell them?”

He walked over to meet her, hearing the door close behind him. “The truth.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but how much of the truth?”

He eyed her. “Why? Is there something you want to hide?”

She shrugged. “There’s an awful lot I want to hide about that time in my life…”

“Why?” He crossed his arms. “Was dating me such a blot to your credentials?”

She waved him off. “Don’t start that now. I don’t want to argue.” She drew her lip under her teeth.

He finally got a good look at her, a good look at HER. No makeup, no fancy hair style, dressed in black slacks and a black and white striped shirt. Her shoes simple, not worn to make her appear taller, tougher. And she wore her glasses. They were much different than the last ones he saw her wear.

“You’re glasses,” he commented, breaking through her intense internal monologue. “I like them.” It was an off the cuff comment, not meant to charm or cajole, a simple truth.

“Thank you.” She turned her head uncomfortably, looking up at him through the lenses.

“Remember when you asked me to come with you to pick out a new pair?” He smirked thinking back. “I was a hopeless help.”

“ _Hill, you look beautiful in all of them_.”

She didn’t want to go into this now. “That is exactly my point.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

She looked away from him, embarrassed at where her mind was heading. “Well… We know things… about each other and I don’t want a repeat of the last debate…”

He tucked his chin under and looked at her from under his eyelids. “What are you afraid I’ll say?”

She shrugged her shoulders, embarrassed she had even made the suggestion.

“Hill,” he pulled her gaze back to him. “I’d never compromise you in any way.”

She nodded in mutual agreement. Deep down, she knew he would never, could never discredit her.

“I was planning on telling the press we simply went our own ways. I chose Arkansas…” He paused. “And you chose New York.”

She nodded, the story true, but missing some details. “Alright then, that’s settled.”

Their conversation was over, should have been over, but neither made a move to leave. Normally so self-assured, he shuffled his weight between his feet, curling his toes to rock back and forth. She clenched her hands together, holding them near her waist. There was so much more that each wanted and needed to say.

When a significant amount of time passed, he glanced at his watch. “Jesus, I have to go.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Another campaign stop?”

“No…” he paused. “I’m spending the day with family.”

“So back to Arkansas,” she smiled, glad somebody got a break.

“No,” he hesitated. “Washington.”

Her smile and any happiness she had for him immediately disintegrated. His fiancée was a DC stationed secretary, not that Hillary looked into her entire background. Only the basics: father a prominent DC businessman, mother a lawyer, graduated U. Penn, thick black hair plumped to perfection, long tanned legs, makeup expertly applied, and the charm one would expect from a traditional politician’s wife.

“Well,” she began. “I hope you enjoy your break.”

“Thank you.” He backed towards the door. “Take care of yourself.” He hoped she knew he meant it.

His hand slowly reached for the door and pinched the latch, but he halted when he heard an undertone coming from her lips.

“I also took the Arkansas bar exam…” She held her head in a low, protective stance. This was sensitive information she never thought she’d tell anyone, much less him.

He turned around at that news. “What?”

She looked straight into his eyes and nodded. “I passed.”

He had to turn away. He had to get out of there. Her presence, her calm yet powerful voice that could shape the world (including him), and her confession filled with pent up emotion and dreams of what might have been, it was all too much.

“I need to go.”

She watched him run away from her and into the arms of another woman, again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, all those who commented were very realistic in their predictions. I agree, Bill would certainly have won. But this is all fiction and I will end it how I want to, and hopefully not as you may expect... Once again, purely fiction (well, most of it...)

Her car trailed through the winding roads of Virginia, cutting through the countless trees and hills. Her aides made conversation with her throughout their long drive from the airport, but she was content to sit quietly and mentally prepare for the days ahead.

The next day would be another test, a test of her emotional control, stamina, and reputation with the press. It would be the first time her and her opponent would appear together since the revelation of their past relationship. There were numerous rallies in Virginia promoting new legislation on healthcare and a march was scheduled from the the hotel to these numerous different locations. They would kick off the march together and lead the crowd to the rally locations where others would speak.

Everyone in the audience wouldn’t care what they said, which issues they covered, or if they even talked about healthcare at all. The crowds would only be watching the two opponents interactions. Will they talk cordially to each other or start another heated argument? Will they begin to share personal stories to damage the other? Are they still friendly or was it a bad breakup? The drama could not be any more heightened.

About a mile from their hotel, crowds started lining the dark evening streets, waving signs in both support and protest of both candidates. The closer they got, the crowds got bigger as did the lump in her stomach. The van circled around and stopped at the corner of the square. She noticed his van was already parked in front of hers.

She wondered how his time off with is fiancée went. He sure seemed eager to leave the last time she saw him.

An agent opened her door. Swallowing the internal emotional battle commencing within her and with her game face on, she stepped out onto the crowded sidewalk.

She waved to the crowds on all sides of her, but quickly made her way into the hotel lobby. It was later than she originally thought and she was ready to get to sleep so she’d be ready for the early march the next morning.

“Senator Clinton,” one of her aides called her over to a corner of the lobby. “I just received an update from headquarters.”

“And?” she encouraged her aide to spit it out so she could move on.

“The new polls are out and give him a slight advantage nationally, though I will stress slight.”

She nodded. She knew how close the race was.

“Governor Clinton has apparently checked in already. You are both due in the lobby at 9:00 tomorrow so can we meet as a staff with you at 8:00?”

“That’s fine.”

“HQ is currently holding off the interview requests until ‘things,’” They both knew what those ‘things’ were. “Until it begins to blow over.”

She huffed, ready to be in bed. “Anything else?”

“Yes, one more thing. Campaign gossip, but I think you should know.” She leaned in. “There are whispers that Governor Clinton has broken off his engagement… Only rumors… but I’ve heard it from a few different sources… The campaign is already thinking up lines and issues we can take with this…”

“No,” she stopped her. Hillary’s mind blacked out upon hearing the first statement. Really? Did he break it off? Or was it her? Why? But it may not be true. “No…” she couldn’t let herself believe it. Could she? “No moves until you consult with me. I WILL have the final say in this. Are we clear?”

“Yes Senator.” The aide faded into the background.

* * *

The phone kept ringing. This time he turned the tables on her and had his aides get her room number. He dialed, not really sure what he was going to say. Only to hear her voice again would be enough. But the phone just kept ringing. No answer.

He dropped the receiver. Apparently, it wasn’t meant to be tonight.

After brooding for a moment he picked up the phone again and dialed for room service.

“Good evening. I’d like a medium size pizza with mushrooms and onions… and your draft beer…” He deserved it. “Room 418… Thanks.”

He sat back in his armchair and shut his eyes just as someone knocked on his door.

He slapped his tired legs and pulled himself up. Not bothering about how he looked with half his buttons undone, he slugged his way to the door.

He wished he would have had a heads up on his visitor’s presence, else he might have had a more articulate greeting.

“Oh my God!” he exclaimed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Shh,” she scolded him. “I’m sure your staff is still awake.” She didn’t wait for an invitation and instead slid her way past him and into his room.

His agents at the door looked for their security detail’s approval, but his eyes were glued on the surprise guest as she flounced in. He closed the door in their engrossed faces.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing to the numerous chairs and sofas.

She didn’t budge from her place by the front door, set on her mission to have the answers to her questions. “Did you really break off your engagement?” she stated plainly, staring directly at him and looking for a direct answer.

He stared back at her, grateful for her blatant question and secretly encouraged that she cared. “I did,” he answered, sure she would inquire more information.

“Why?” He was proved right.

Walking further into the room, he lowered himself into an arm chair even if she wasn’t going to. He needed something solid under him for this conversations and sitting down helped the room to stop spinning around him. “I realized…” he paused, “…I just couldn’t go through with it.”

“What do you mean?” She wasn’t letting him get out of an honest answer.

“Hill…” His eyes darted to every corner of the room, searching his heart and mind for the true answer. “I really don’t know.”

She could tell from his unsteady voice and his lost eyes that he was telling the truth. She sat on the arm of the chair opposite him. She wasn’t going anywhere. “Did you love her?”

He immediately shook his head. There was no use pretending.

“Did she love you?”

He thought about his answer. “Not to the extent I’m longing for in a partner.” He lowered his head, staring at the floor between his feet. “That was the reason for my trip to Washington after the debate.”

She was silent, not sure how to respond. “I’m sorry,” she eventually muttered.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. “I’m sorry too,” he said in a voice that implied he was sorry for more than their topic of conversation.

When his gaze became too much for her, she stood. “I should…”

Her sentence was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Room Service.”

“I almost forgot.” He stood and went to the front door.

“Bill! I can’t…” she began, panicked about being caught in his room.

“Go on into the bedroom.” He gestured to the side door.

She slipped through and he brought in the pizza box and glass of beer.

“You can come out now!”

“My God!” she exclaimed walking back out. “You certainly haven’t changed your cleaning habits!”

He laughed heartily at her complaint. “I was trying to decide what to wear tomorrow! It wasn’t easy!”

“It is easy,” she countered. “Whatever’s most comfortable.”

“If that was the only qualification, I’d be wearing my oldest sweatpants and sweatshirt.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you don’t still have that torn Yale sweatshirt.”

“Okay,” he stated in a monotone. “I don’t still have that torn Yale…”

“Oh my God!” She held her head in her hands. “What must that look like now?”

“As comfortable as ever!” He smirked. “But I have an excuse. Someone stole my other intact sweatshirt.”

“And it has gotten much use over the years,” she rebutted, indulging in this easy banter. She never found it with anyone else.

He smiled. “Well that makes me feel better to know it’s gone to good use.” He laid out his meal and pulled two chairs to the small table. “Have you eaten?”

She rolled her lip between her teeth and shook her head. “No time. I only arrived an hour ago.”

He nodded. “Well then have a seat. There’s plenty here to share.”

Though all rational thought told her to walk out, rational thought never had much power when it came to him. She sat down beside him. “Are you even going to share your beer?”

“Of course,” he answered. “Key word, SHARE, not GIVE.”

She laughed, taking a sip. “Point taken.”

“And for sharing my classy dinner with you,” he pulled a slice from the box. “I will ask for every one of your crusts as payment.”

She honored him with one of her full belly laughs which had him in stitches as well. “Gladly!” She picked up a slice, pinched a mushroom between her fingers, and popped it in her mouth. She then proceeded to remove every onion and discard it on his slice of pizza.

He smiled, looking at her unique food palate. She hadn’t changed.

They enjoyed their light banter through their dinner. Humor always came easy between them. Anger, also, always came easy between them, as did support, respect, and desire.

She was just finishing her last slice as he took another sip of beer. Sitting back in his chair and crossing his ankle over his knee, he asked, “So is New York everything you ever hoped it would be?”

She swallowed, the whole truth threatening to emerge from her mouth. “It’s been absolutely wonderful,” she exaggerated, holding up her last crust for him to take. “My law career really took off and propelled me straight into the Senate. I feel the work I do there is important and I love to see people’s lives changed from the work I’ve done.”

Taking her offered food, he lowered his eyes and nodded. She painted a pretty picture of her rise, but he knew of her struggles, her constant slander, and her opponents criticisms of her: her loud mouth, her hair, and her lack of a husband to ‘control her.’ He vowed never to take those same tactics into his campaign.

Biting into the crust, he asked, “But are you happy?” He didn’t know what he was hoping to hear by asking her that.

Her face turned with a happy tilt, her lips curling, and teeth slightly showing. The expression didn’t match her longing eyes. “Very.” She paused. “And… How is your life in Arkansas?”

He smiled his signature smile and let out a laugh. “I get along very well.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Of course you do.”

Silence covered them. Both thinking about what they just said, the hollow words, meaningless.

“Why?” She looked up at him, wanting an answer to her first question. “Why did you break up with her?”

This was a question he was still struggling with himself. “I guess… I realized…” His eyes flickered over every object in the room, still searching for an answer. “It wouldn’t be enough.”

She nodded, softening her eyes, reaching for their drink, and waiting for him to continue.

“You know me… And so you know my flaws…”

Yes, she did.

“I started counseling sessions again, right after my divorce. I knew that marriage was a disaster.” He fiddled with his napkin on the table. “She saw other men, I saw other women.”

She sighed and clenched her lips together, afraid that was the case.

“It wasn’t a good relationship or time in my life. After the divorce, I wanted to change so I sought help.” And he did, in good conscious and faith.

“But then…” His mind flickered back to her initial question; Why? “I knew if I married her, I wouldn’t, couldn’t stay faithful. I never loved her and I didn’t want that life anymore. So I broke it off.” He took the beer from her hand and gulped a large swig, feeling it slide down his throat. “I’ve changed too much to go back.”

Her mind tried to sift through all the new information. Through their ups and downs, through his flaws and hers, he still held a part of her. She saw the truth in his eyes and the way his voice inflected. She believed him.

“Do you want the rest of this?” He offered her the last sip of beer.

She shook her head, no.

He downed it and laid the empty glass on the table. Finally, he let the thoughts that he had been pressing out of his head ultimately consume him; thoughts and feeling he tried to suppress and ignore for decades.

She knew him. She could see the moment when his mind shifted, when he started thinking about something other than his failed engagement. And she didn’t know how to handle it.

He let his mouth hang open, waiting for the right words to come out. “When I get married again, and I hope I do…” His eyes purposefully pulled her in. “I want to be in love.” His eyes bore into hers like fire. “Unconditionally and unreservedly.”

It was all too much. He was too much. They were too much. “I think I should go.” She stood quickly, pushing the chair back and turning for the door.

“Hilly,” he called, standing and going after her. “Wait.” He caught her arm.

She stopped upon feeling his touch, like a burn to her skin. She felt his hand slide down her arm and lock with her fingers. She bent her fingers so they were intertwine.

“Bill…” She turned around to face him. “We’re both running to be the President… against each other…” That rational thought caught her by surprise. This was insane.

He moved his head in a circle, showing he understood the absurdity as much as she did. “Don’t I know it.” His other hand connected with her hip and slid to the small of her back, drawn there like a magnet.

Her free hand all too willingly reached for his cheek, caressing the smooth skin it found there, fingertips ever so lightly traveling down his jaw and to his neck. “We’re supposed to be locked in a brutal battle…”

“Don’t I know it,” he repeated pressing against her back and pulling her closer.

She felt him surround her, consume her body and soul. As she aligned her body to conform to his, her thoughts shifted from ‘what’ they were doing to ‘how.’ “How is this going to work?”

“I don’t know.” He bent his head, exhaling his warm breath into her shoulder and burying his face in her neck.

She sucked in a shallow gulp of air as his lips pressed against the sensitive skin at the side of her neck. “Billy… Honey…” She turned her head closer, so her cheek joined with his. “We need to be sensible about this…”

“I am being sensible,” he whispered in her ear with a deep throaty voice, a voice she hadn’t heard in years except for her dreams. “This is the most sensible thing I’ve done in over 15 years.”

“Hum?” she hummed in question while untangling their fingers so she could wind her arm around his neck and scratch his nape with her fingernails.

His lips caressed her jaw line, slowly making their way to her chin, and then up. He hovered, only a breath away. “I love you, Hillary Diane.” Their eyes locked, bodies woven together, and souls united. “I need you in my life.”

Her heart pounded, her lower body tightened, her eyes prickled with threatening tears, and her mind felt like it was in a dreamlike sleep. “I need you too,” she choked out.

His neck muscles stopped holding his head up, refusing to be separated from her any longer. His head dropped, lips landing squarely on hers, back where they belonged.

She locked her lips around his indulging in their warmth and loving care.

Their kiss was slow and drawn out, both content to take their time and lose themselves in the moment. Their kiss broke, only for them to both lean in again and readjust their lips, further sinking into each other, arms pulling closer, and bodies relaxing into the other.

He moved his kisses to the corner of her mouth, then quickly down her neck and to her ear lobe. The tiny gasps coming from her mouth spurred him to continue his trek down to her shoulder, making contact with as much bared skin as he could find and uncovering it when necessary.

Feeling him push her blouse to the side, she found the strength to speak. “Billy, honey.” She pulled his head up from its ministrations. Trailing her arms down his chest and stepping back, she turned to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Though left hanging, he came to. “Hold on,” he stopped her, going to the door first. He turned the knob and poked his head through the crack, looking both ways down the hall and only finding their discrete agents. “You’re clear.”

He stood sideways, giving her a path to walk out.

She walked through the path and paused right beside him. She turned to face him, curved her arms around his waist, and stepped her toes against his. She lifted her chin and stood on her toes, her lips just reaching his for a quick kiss.

Lowering back to her heels, she stared into his soft, bewitching eyes, seeing the desire and love she remembered. Here was a man who wasn’t afraid of her, a man who shared her passions and savored each of their conversations, and a man who made her feel wanted, needed, and completely loved.

She pulled herself away, quickly stealing out the door and strutting confidently past the agents. They didn’t need to know she felt like a melted puddle on the inside. She turned the corner toward the stairs and climbed back to her room.

He closed the door after he watched her disappear around the corner feeling giddy, deliriously happy, and oh so grateful.


	7. Chapter 7

“Where does our country currently stand and what can we do to make it work for all Americans especially for those who have felt their government has let them down?”

The crowd listened intently. He drew them in easily, first laying out a few jokes, highlighting his southern draw, and letting his personality take over. They waited for him to continue with bated breath, feeling the emotion emanating from their speaker’s pours.

Backstage, the other candidate stood in the wings watching her opponent, studying his movements, each expression, the pauses and inflections in his voice. He was bewitching.

“First off, we need to look at the wage gap. Everyone who does a solid days work deserves fair compensation for that work…”

The audience cheered in approval.

She tilted her head and gripped her hands at her waist. She noticed how he lowered his voice and then drove his point home, voice thundering from deep within. It certainly worked for this audience. His voice was intoxicating, it always worked on her.

“…No matter your ethnicity and no matter your gender!”

She pursed her lips together. He was focusing on the gender argument now, obviously responding to one of the main arguments of her campaign.

“Second, incarceration rate. It is incredible that the US has the highest percentage of our population in prison. More than any other country.”

She knew he was right. He was very good with statistics and remembering a myriad of specific facts and figures. She always marveled at his expansive talents and knowledge.

He lifted his voice, filled with passion. “We need to take a serious look at our criminal justice system and implement plans that aim to help people, not try and solve our problems using incarceration.”

‘What does that mean?’ she thought to herself. Yes mass incarceration was a problem, but what did he plan to do about it? And how much would it cost?

“And last, access to quality and affordable health care should be the number one priority of this country as we move forward and look to the future.”

She couldn’t argue with that statement, but she expected to hear more from him.

“Our founders saw themselves in the light of posterity. We can do no less. Anyone who has ever watched a child's eyes wander into sleep knows what posterity is. Posterity is the world to come. The world for whom we hold our ideals, from whom we have borrowed our planet and to whom we bear sacred responsibility. We must do what America does best: offer more opportunity to all and demand more responsibility from all. I ask that of you today and hope we can carry that vision all the way to the White House. Thank you and God bless you.” He raised a hand and flashed a brilliant smile, lifting the crowd with him.

After making his rounds across the front of the room, he stepped off the stage and into the wings, stopping right beside her.

They stood beside each other, both facing the stage entrance and watching the town Mayor introduce her.

“Thanks for warming up the crowd for me,” she whispered drolly so only he could here.

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

“You left me hanging on your healthcare policies,” she told him with a slightly critical edge.

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Hill, you know I have plans. But they,” he gestured to the audience. “They don’t want to hear about all the details that go into everything.”

Did he have a point?

“I just give them what they want.”

She swallowed, her mind processing, and then raised her head. “I disagree.” She turned to him. “I believe the people deserve to hear actual policies and feasible plans.”

He swallowed, his mind processing. “You’re right, but endless policy speeches won’t get me any more votes.”

There, he had a point.

“I am proud to welcome to the stage, Senator Hillary Rodham!”

“Go get ‘em,” he whispered.

She felt the back of his hand ever so slightly sweep against her arm as he turned away, moving further into the wings.

Their roles switched. She took the stage, waving to supporters and voters, rallying the cry for healthcare reform, and he stood in the wings, arms crossed, chin lowered, studying her.

“Hello! It’s wonderful to be here with all of you!” She raised her arms to quiet the crowd.

She began with such confidence, such enthusiasm, feeding off the crowd’s hype. He listened to her deep cutting voice articulate and drive home each phrase and watched her face, focused and determined. Some called her harsh, bionic, unattractive and her voice shrill. He had to forcefully bite his tongue to keep from verbally tearing those critics to shreds.

To him, she was fire itself, her spirit blazing across the country and leaving a more alive nation in her wake. She spoke from her brilliant mind which took cues from her solicitous heart. He knew what she was capable of, how powerful her words could be if only there were people willing to listen, willing to pick apart and evaluate her intricate policies she spoke of. And that was the inevitable flaw, the people were not willing to or attentive enough to listen. She wasn’t a showman, she was a workhorse. She wasn’t a charmer, she was a doer. And all too often the people wanted a showman.

“I’m running to make our economy work for you and for every American. For the successful and the struggling. For the innovators and inventors. For those breaking barriers in technology and discovering cures for diseases. For the factory workers and food servers who stand on their feet all day. For the nurses who work the night shift. For the truckers who drive for hours and the farmers who feed us. For the veterans who served our country. For the small business owners who took a risk. For everyone who’s ever been knocked down, but refused to be knocked out. I’m not running for some Americans, but for all Americans.”

That got a roaring cheer from her audience. And his heart burst with pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some of these lines directly from their speeches. Thanks for reading and for your comments! (Purely Fiction)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your comments! I hope my storied also show my dislike of the press and their constant slander on both the Clinton, constantly jumping to conclusions. Purely Fiction!

“Alright!” She stepped off the stage, coming down from her hype. She noticed her opponent was no longer backstage. Her aides hustled her towards the back door and handed her a blue coat.

“Governor Clinton is already in front of the march, ready to start. You will be beside him along with the Mayor for the opening, but then you can fall back into the crowd. For appearances, we suggest you mainly stay away from Governor Clinton. Any contact will have the press reeling for another entire week. But you don’t want to appear cold either.”

She nodded, very aware of the image they had to portray yet not entirely sure what that image should look like.

She slipped on her coat and walked out the side door onto the street where there were hundreds of people on every side waving signs, chanting their candidates name, and supporting the fight for healthcare reform.

She smiled and waved, so lifted and encouraged by the support healthcare was getting from the public. Unfortunately, supporters were not the only ones lining the streets. She had to make it past the press before reaching the front of the marching line.

Head up, long gait, and controlled expression, she glided through.

They pounced. “Senator Rodham, what ended your previous relationship?” “How long were you dating?” “How does it feel to be campaigning against your former partner?”

She soldiered on, catching a glimpse of the Governor at the front of the crowd along with the city Mayor. She joined them, pulling her coat tighter around her and slipping her hand in her gloves. She planted herself on the other side of the Mayor keeping her distance from him. As long as they kept their distance, the media story would hopefully run it’s course and they could get back to being judged on the issues.

The Mayor held his megaphone and addressed the crowd. “I, especially, want to thank both Senator Rodham and Governor Clinton for being with us today and for their support and work on behalf of healthcare reform.”

The crowd cheered in unanimous consent.

“Let’s get a photo before we begin.” The Mayor pulled each candidate on either side of him and wrapped his arms around them.

Both candidates wrapped an arm around the Mayor, making sure their hands didn’t touch on his back.

With the photo complete the march began. She moved to the far left, he moved to the far right both engaging in conversations with the other lawmakers and the people marching.

It was a beautiful day for it, chilly but sunny and clear. And it felt good to be out walking. Her life had been all encompassed by travel and meetings that it felt freeing to be outside. During a lull in her conversations, she scanned the crowd to find him. She found him in the middle of a belly laugh with his hand patting another man’s shoulder. He looked so young and fully alive. He loved this, campaigning, meeting and connecting with people. He showed such compassion for others and embodied the empathy required to reach them. With that and his prodigious mind, he would make a great President.

She shook her head, she’d been staring at him too long, someone might have noticed. And she didn’t like how soft her mind was getting. She knew that she would also make a great President and that should be her number one focus.

“I saw you staring.”

She jumped at the voice suddenly beside her.

“I thought we should at least talk a little so the press doesn’t think we absolutely hate each other.”

He had a point. They were attempting to balance on an incredibly thin tightrope. “Good point. We’re going to have to create a formidable team behind whom ever wins the nomination.”

“Well then,” he said in a jocular voice, she knew a quip was coming. “I guess I should fall in line behind you right now.”

Though a joke, it made her feel good. “Not so fast, we’ll let the people decide and then see who’s lining up behind who.”

He nodded. “Or beside.”

Though curious as to the meaning behind that statement, she changed the subject. “Are you leaving tomorrow for…”

“Tonight. I have a rally tomorrow in North Carolina.”

“Oh, really,” she mocked surprise. “You do know I’m beating you in North Carolina by 6 points?”

“Ha!” he chortled. “You wish.”

She turned away, hiding her giggles. “Well, I’m off to Pennsylvania tomorrow morning, so I guess I won’t see you until the next debate.”

Glancing at her through the corner of his eye, he said, “I hope you’re studying up for the next one.”

She scoffed. “Don’t you worry about that, Governor. I’ve been in training since I was 10, discussing politics with my parents.” She turned to look at him. “I’m more worried about you.”

He looked at her suspiciously.

“My mother will be there,” she warned.

His face lit up. “Dorothy Rodham! Oh now I am worried!”

“As you should be!” She couldn’t help but bask in his joy. “She expects a lot from you, as do I.”

“Well I can only dream to live up to such a high standard, but I’ll do my best for her…” He paused. “For both of you.”

She didn’t feel the need to respond.

They walked and waved for a few more minutes before she said, “I think I’ll cross now. We’ve been seen together long enough.”

He understood. “Good luck.”

She nodded, looking forward. “You too.” She stepped to the side. “By the way… I approve of the outfit choice.” And with that, she crossed to the other side, interacting with an entirely new group of people.

He chuckled. He took her comfort advice and dressed more casually. He found new people to talk to and about 20 minutes later, an aide came to pull him aside with updates.

“The speech was well received and the press is using the talking points we wanted them to cover…”

As the aide continued updating him, his focus zeroed in on her. This time he felt the green eyed monster bubble inside him.

Across the street and walking with his arm around her, the town’s gray haired, jolly Mayor was looking all too friendly. He could see their backs as they walked slightly ahead of him. He could tell they were laughing together, her shoulders shook and he saw her head turn towards her partner. The Mayor’s hand, currently on her waist, was tugging her way to close to him and not in a casual way. His hand moved up and down, stroking her waist.

‘Do it…’ He played through an imaginary conversation with the Mayor. ‘I dare you…’

And he did. Bill watched as the man lowered his hand from her waist, skipping her hips entirely, and landed exactly where Bill considered off limits.

The aide’s voice came back into his ear. “So when you’re done here, we have about an hour to pack everything up and drive to North Carolina for tomorrow’s rally…”

“No,” he stated firmly, continuing to walk with his hands balled in his pockets. “No, we’ll stay here one more night and leave early tomorrow morning.”

The aide was juggling the practicality of that change in his mind. “Sir, that would make our time management much more complicated…”

“I know it.” He pulled away from his aide and pushed forward into the crowd. “Meet me at 8:00 tomorrow morning.”

By the time he reached them, Hillary had already shushed the hand from her derrière. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last that move was tried on her. She felt another arm wrap around her shoulder and a new body squeeze between them.

“I was wondering where you ran off to Mayor.” His voice all too high pitched for her to take him seriously.

Inserting himself as a block between them, Bill quickly removed his arm from Hillary and held the Mayor’s arm and shoulder in a firm, manly grip.

“It’s quite a crowd you’ve got here and what welcoming people.”

He grinned. “Yes, I’m very proud of it. I was just telling Hillary…”

Her first name…

“…We have this little restaurant called the Colonial Pub where they serve the greatest home cooked food in all Virginia.”

She smirked and nodded, confirming his story. “He is taking me there tonight.” She waited for the Governor’s inevitable reaction.

He rose his eyebrows and hung his mouth open. He pursed his lips, not at all comfortable to leave that invitation hang. He tilted his head. “You know, I’ve enjoyed my time here so much I worked it out so I’ll stay one more night and leave tomorrow.”

“That’s wonderful!” the Mayor bellowed, genuinely pleased. “If you don’t have any plans for dinner…”

“I don’t,” Bill answered quickly, anticipating his own invitation.

“…Well then, if you want any recommendations, let me know!” And with that, the Mayor pulled to the front of the crowd.

Hillary burst out laughing. “Well that didn’t go as you planned, did it?”

His lips pursed again and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “And what, pray tell, did you assume me of scheming up?”

She shrugged her shoulders. She knew him, and she suspected he delayed his departure not to spend more time in the town, but with one specific person currently there. That thought sent goose bumps up and down her arms. “I don’t know.”

She was glad he did, she wanted to see him too, wanted to touch him without it being called illicit, to kiss him without fear of consequences, to hold him and have him hold her without judgement.

She looked straight forward and sucked in her cheeks before quietly stating. “Dinner is at 5:00 and then I’m meeting with my team until 10.”

He copied her casual walking frame, also staring forward. “So I’ll assume you’ll be in your room tonight around 11:00?” His suggestive voice sent his message loud and clear.

“No…” She drew out her words, slowly, seductively and low so nobody around them could hear. “I think I’ll be in your room tonight at 11:00.”

He choked on the air he tried to bring into his lungs, covering his mouth to hide his reaction. She bit her cheek to keep from bursting.

“My God, you could kill a man with words like that.” He tried his best to quell the tingling feeling currently ripping through his entire body.

She really was dangerous and witty, a brutal combination. “My words have already killed, or are you forgetting about our first debate?”

He was speechless. He would have liked to kiss that smart-ass smirk off her face right then and there.

“Now go on away from me so the press don’t get another picture.”

“Another?” he questioned.

“Um hum,” she nodded bringing her lips between her teeth. “You put your arm around me for a split second and I can guarantee that will be the highlight of tomorrow’s news.”

He scrunched his face, not believing they caught that half second exchange.

Meanwhile, photographers were working overtime to get their photos developed and to the papers in time for the next morning’s release.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the clock struck 11:00...

10:50. How long had he been sitting there? It must have been hours. His team meeting was over long ago and ever since then, he turned his campaign mind off. He tried reading, but found himself staring into space every other paragraph.

Flipping the TV on, he shuffled back in his chair. Photos popped up from the march, and of course she was right. The first photo, and the one cable news continued to highlight, was the one of his arm around her shoulders. They even cut the Mayor out of the shot so it looked like it was just the two of them walking.

He tuned in.

“… looking rather friendly at today’s Healthcare March. NBC interviewed a Yale grad who knew both Rodham and Clinton. In the interview she said Rodham actually ended up staying at Yale an extra year to be with Clinton. When both graduated in 1973, they traveled together to England that summer. When they returned to the states, he went back to Arkansas and she moved to New York…”

He flicked it off. He didn’t need to hear his personal life read to him by a second rate news commentator or hear them debate and question both their reasons and motives.

He stood up, giving his collared shirt permission to slip from his waist band. He looked at the clock, 10:55. Not knowing what would happen that night, he chose to stay fully dressed. He had no exception or conditions. As long as she was near him, he would be satisfied.

He contemplated reading again, but the knock at the door turned his whole mindset around.

She barely knocked once before the door opened for her and she quickly stepped inside.

“Hi darlin’.” Closing the door, he immediately squeezed her upper arms and pulled her close to him, his mouth descending on hers like he was drowning and she was his oxygen.

“What a greeting!” she finally managed to get out when he let her go. “Will you greet me like that on stage during the next debate?”

“Do you want me to?” He quipped right back. “You know I’ll be tempted.”

“Don’t you dare.” She sauntered into the room leaving him gawking at her from the door. She wore her coat over her shoulders to walk through the hall.

“I think you forgot something,” he said curiously as he scanned her attire and found her shoeless.

Slipping her lips between her teeth demurely, she said, “I think not.”

She wore her glasses, which was also unique. His gaze snuck a peek at the slit between her coat lapels. He couldn’t make out what she had on underneath.

She stood there, still, daring him to find out.

He took the dare closing in on her, snaking his hand around her lapels, and pushing the coat off her shoulders. Unwrapping her revealed a silky cream colored robe cinched at the waist and billowing down to her knees.

As his eyes clouded over, she flicked her sultry eyes to her coat still hanging from his hand. “Hang that somewhere, will you?”

“Anything you want,” he said, completely submissive to her every word. He laid her coat over a chair and walked, zombie like, back to her side. As soon as he stepped into her bubble, he pulled her into his longing embrace, rocking their bodies side to side.

“How was your dinner?” he asked, slight malice in his tone.

“Wretched,” she answered sliding her fingertips over the muscles in his back. “I balled him out for his inconsistent support of drug restriction policies and he left before dessert.”

He burst out with a hearty chuckle. “That’s my girl!” He watched her face light up upon hearing that specific endearment again. “I can’t say I’m sorry your dinner was ruined.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry either,” she started giggling. “I got two desserts out of the deal.”

He joined in her merriment, pulling her even closer and letting his cheek rest against hers. “You’re incredible, you know.” He whispered in her ear placing a wet kiss right after his words.

“You didn’t do so bad yourself today.” She indulged in his attention. “You really were born to do this.”

“Do what? This?” he asked, nipping her ear lobe causing her to shiver and flinch at the same time.

“Not only that,” she clarified running her hands up and down his sides. “Campaigning. You’re a natural.”

“I may be a natural,” he trailed his lips over her cheek. “But you’ve got the dogged stamina of a thoroughbred.”

She curled her lips in a impish grin. “Dogged stamina you say. We’ll just see how long you can keep up.”

If he had any questions as to how far she wanted to go that night, they were answered by her nimble fingers working their way down the buttons of his shirt. Brushing his shirt to the side, she ran her fingertips over his expansive chest, paying special attention to areas she remembered gave him chills.

“Do you remember our drive out to California?” she asked, moving her mouth to continue the actions of her hands.

He sucked in a breath of air through his teeth. “I remember a lot of things from that trip.”

She smirked, pushing his shirt over his shoulders.

“I remember you reading out loud while I drove.” He couldn’t hold back his fingers from working at the knot at her waist.

She shrugged her robe off her shoulders revealing a dark blue nightgown with simple lace straps and detailing around the bodice. The silky fabric clung to her hips and flared down to her knees.

He looked her over with darkening eyes before reaching for her waist and stepping closer. “I remember being forced to pull the car over on a deserted road and make to you love in the backseat.”

“I’ll take the blame for that.” She tip toed her finger tips up his chest and around his shoulders, leaving them chest to chest.

He pressed his cheek to her forehead. “I remember crooning to you in the moonlight.”

“And in the daylight.”

“Well…” He wrapped his arms further around her back and let them roam. “My daylight crooning memory is from England.”

She nodded her head in his chest. “I remember.”

He lowered himself to reach her ear. “Woke up it was a Chelsea morning…”

She joined him. “And the first thing that I heard…”

“Chelsea…” she breathed, the memories flooding back.

With that one word from her mouth, he could read her mind, knew why she tightened her grip around his shoulders, why her head nuzzled further into his chest.

He finished. “…Won’t you stay we'll put on the day, and we'll wear it 'till the night comes.”

She inhaled his scent. “I remember.”

Powerless to fix that permanent hole in her heart, he did the next best thing. He lifted her face from his chest, palms cupping her cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered, lowering his lips to the bridge of her nose.

She answered him, “I love you too,” placing her hands on his wrists and adjusting her mouth to meet his.

As emotions heightened, their suppressed desires were set free connecting with the other, mind, body, and soul.

He lowered his hands to the hem of her gown and dragged it up her thighs, severing their connection only to lift it over her head. With his arms still tightly around her waist, they both managed to remove the clothing that remained on their bottom halves.

Both completely enraptured by all consuming desire, they stumbled over each other, making their way through to the bedroom only just managing to shut the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's where I'll leave it. I hope I don't disappoint anyone, but that is as far as my writing will take me as far as bedroom activities... Thanks for your comments! Keep them coming! Your thoughts are helping me write future chapters. Purely Fiction


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news bad news... Good news is I was able to keep posting this weekend even while moving into a new apartment! Bad news is I don't have any more chapters written yet and I won't have wifi this week... So I hope to post again by the end of the week. Thanks for all your comments! Purely fiction.

“We’ll hopefully arrive by 11:30 so we can grab some lunch at the Linden Diner, and make the 1:00 speech.” His two top aides opened the hotel door at precisely 8:00 the next morning, vigorously going over the day’s schedule and making sure their timing was precise.

“If not,” the other replied. “We should just grab something quickly afterwards before the meeting with the Congressmen and phone call with the party leader.”

He nodded in agreement. Finding the room empty, he moved swiftly towards the bedroom door, rapped his knuckles against the frame, and pushed it open.

The lump in the sheets was larger than expected. As his eyes focused in the darkened room, his body jumped from his skin realizing there was an extra body; Blonde hair and bare back sprawled across his boss’s chest.

He shut the door as fast as he could without making a sound.

“I’ll see what he wants for breakfast,” his partner casually walked towards the now off limits door.

“STOP! Don’t go in there!” he whispered fiercely, stopping him with an extended arm.

“What? Why?”

“There’s… He’s not…” He scratched his head. “There’s someone in bed with him.”

“Christ!” He slumped into a chair with his head between his hands. “I thought he stopped doing this shit.”

“Yea, well apparently not!” He was still disturbed to have walked into that scene. “What the hell do we do now?”

The knock on the door made them both jump.

* * *

“Senator Rodham,” her top female aid called at exactly 8:00 am, knocking on her bedroom door. She was met with silence. She hoped that didn’t mean her boss overslept. They had a busy day.

“Senator…” She knocked more forcefully, opening it when she heard no response. The bed was neatly made and her laid out pajama top and bottom were never touched. “Senator?” No noise from the shower, no presence in the bathroom, no sign of her anywhere. How could one lose one’s boss?

She walked into the hall again, noticing there was only one agent at the door when there were usually three. Though not allowed to talk, the missing bodies provided the clue she needed.

Find the missing agents, find the missing candidate.

It didn’t take her long. The hotel was only so big. But finding them didn’t calm her worries one bit. Five guards stood outside the single hotel room.

“I’m Senator Rodham’s aide,” she told the one agent she didn’t recognize who was stationed right outside the door.

The Senator’s personal agents confirmed her story and she was permitted to knock.

Though it took three persistent tries, the door finally opened.

“George, is she here?”

“Huma, what?”

She pushed past him and walked further into the room. “Where is she?”

“Stop! John get her out of here!” The last thing they needed was for their opponent’s team to catch the Governor in bed with a woman and bring that into their campaign.

The two men reached for her arms and turned her towards the door.

“Don’t you push me out, I know she’s here! Her agents are outside!” She made quite a commotion.

“Shhh! Quiet. I don’t know who you’re looking for… agents?” No, it couldn’t be. “You think Senator Rodham is here…”

“I know she is!” she yelled, just as the bedroom door opened.

“What in God’s name…” The Governor appeared tying a robe around his obviously bare chest. He tried to keep his voice low, but Huma’s presence was testing his emotional restraints and suppression.

“Where is she?” Huma broke away from the aides and confronted the Governor.

He raised his hands to her shoulders and tried to speak as calmly as possible. “I’m sure she’s fine. So why don’t you all get out of my room and I’m sure Senator Rodham will be back with you shortly.”

His request was met with quite the protest from all three of them. “Governor Clinton, you told us to be here at 8:00 and it’s 8:15…” “…We need to get moving to North Carolina, we’ll be late as it is…” “…I’m not moving without knowing she’s alright… I know she’s here…”

The Governor shut his eyes and raked his hands over his still exhausted face. He would regret that slip.

Huma used the opportunity to dart around him and open the forbidden door.

“Huma! NO…” He reached for the door, but was too late.

“Oh my… God…” She whispered the last word realizing her boss was still asleep in the middle of the large bed; Body twisted so she laid on her back with her hips turned on their side, arms sprawled against the pillows, covers pulled over her chest revealing her bare shoulders, face relaxed, contented, and breathing deep and heavy.

“Oh my God…” She turned to the Governor in shock, searching for an answer.

He positioned himself in front of her, blocking her view of the bed. His mind tried to work overtime, trying to find a way out of this. Though not sorry at all, this didn’t look good and it would be a nightmare if ever discovered. But this was only their aides, ruthlessly loyal and it was in their job description to make their bosses look good. They wouldn’t tell.

And as for explaining their relationship status… He realized that he didn’t owe any of them an explanation.

“Out!” He forcefully whispered, sending Huma and his two aides, who had also followed, into the living area. Shutting the bedroom door behind him, he turned to address all three of them.

“Here’s the deal…” He spoke firmly, leaving no doubt about his seriousness. “Just… No questions…”

They stared blankly, not liking his response but not sure they actually wanted to know any more.

“But what if this gets out?” George asked, frustrated. “We’re the ones who will have to deal with it…”

“If anything gets out, Hillary and I will decide how to deal with it then. But for now,” he didn’t know quite how to end. “For now just let us be.”

Huma crossed her arms and stood firmly in her spike heels. “Well I will certainly be taking my directions from her, so I will discuss this with her when she is awake and… dressed.”

He raised his hands asking for them to wait there. “Give me one moment.”

Back in their closed sanctuary he exhaled, trying to calm his racing heart. Damn it! He almost always woke up naturally at 7:30. Though staying up half the night could be blamed for his delayed alarm clock. He didn’t expect them to fall asleep and he certainly didn’t expect to be wakened by their aides fighting outside his bedroom door.

“Hilly.” He hated to disturb her serene sleep. He knew how grueling the campaign life was. But these were desperate times. He climbed on his hands and knees to the center of the bed and rubbed her bare arm. “Baby, wake up. It’s mornin’.”

She felt the shift in the mattress and began to come to. Letting out a groan and stretching her arms, she found his chest hovering over her. “Good morn… Morning!” She darted upright and cursed upon seeing the light peeking in from behind the closed curtains. “Oh my God! Huma’s supposed to meet me this morning!” She rolled away from him and to the side of the bed where her glasses sat. Her mind, now wide awake, scrolled through the practicality of making it to her room undetected. She moved to her knees, ready to crawl over him and out of the bed. “Shit, I’ve got to get my clothes.”

“No, no, no!” He held her steady, sitting her back down beside him. “Two of my staff are out there.”

“What?” Her eyes grew two sizes.

He licked his lips and tried to brace himself. “And Huma.”

She moved her hands to grip her head, trying to physically remain sane. Her toes curled and her eyes squinted shut.

“She was worried about you and apparently tracked you down.” He faced her, held both her arms, and tried to speak rationally. “It’s just our most loyal aides. They won’t tell anyone about us.”

That was probably true, but it was still a new development to digest. “I certainly hope so! If this got out…” She left the consequences hanging.

He nodded. “Let’s just pray that it doesn’t leak.” He added as an afterthought, “Until the right time.”

“Until what?” she questioned.

One of their intruders knocked insistently on the door.

He sighed a frustrated sigh as he straightened his robe and made the trek to the door. “What?”

Huma held up a hand draped with fabric. “I found her clothes I suspect she will be needing.”

He moved aside slightly so Huma had a view of Hillary.

She pulled the sheets, making sure her chest was covered again, and flipped her hair out of her face, trying her best to appear blasé. “Thank you Huma. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Bill reached his hand out and Huma hesitantly handed him her boss’s lingerie and coat.

She watched the door close and fell back on the bed with a loud, dramatic huff. “How can I even look her in the eyes again? Why does this have to be so complicated?”

He walked to the top of the bed and handed her her clothes, leaning over and meeting her lips for a quick tender peck. He then moved to his suitcase to find an appropriate outfit for the day. “We’re complicated people, both with big dreams.”

“Both with the same dreams,” she uttered under her breath as she finally untangled herself from the sheets and wondered if there was a place for both their dreams in the future.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I have about 4 more chapters that I will be posting daily until I run out again... This chapter is all my frustration with misogyny and how she was perceived all throughout her public life rolled into a spew of words.
> 
> Thanks again for your comments as I really enjoy hearing what you think! Once again, purely fiction!

Being the doctrinaire she was, she felt compelled to release a statement:

“My previous relationship with the Governor has absolutely no bearing on this political campaign. I will continue to discuss my policies and why my plans are the best for the country.”

She tried her best to move on, publicly that is. Back in full on campaign mode, she applied herself with laser like focus. It was best she concentrate on her policies and proposals, it kept her mind off other complicated aspects of her life.

Her two debate performances received positive reviews, her policies were sound, and her rallies were all but sold out. Just as it seemed she may be getting an edge, the sleeping bear of America rose from it’s slumber. It was a brutal test of the American people’s progressiveness, and they were failing.

“I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas, but what I decided to do was to fulfill my profession.”

How dare she insult mothers and wives and the fulfilling lives we lead. She doesn’t understand us. She doesn’t have a husband or children, and probably never will.

Newspaper headlines featured a crowd of protesters outside her latest rally, signs littering the angry mass:

A woman’s place is in the White House… Kitchen.

Give Clinton the White House! Give Rodham a Husband!

And then the T-shirts, worn by men whose insecurities must have had incredible depths.

Future Mr. Rodham… I’ll keep her in line.

* * *

“… I just can’t see it!”

“Can’t see what?”

“Them together!”

The cable news hosts were having a field day. The so called ‘political commentators’ were discussing the ‘political news’ of the day 24/7. Who knew personal lives were so important when discussing noteworthy events.

“Now, I’m not saying this to be rude, but I never would have put Governor Clinton and Senator Rodham together as a couple.”

“No, I get what your saying. And I think it’s a fair statement. He is so charismatic and outgoing and connects well. But she presents herself as… I’ll say unemotional.”

“Yea, she doesn’t connect well at all with the people.”

“Exactly!” Their enthusiasm and delight with this discussion escalated. “To be completely honest, I zone out whenever I hear her shrieking voice.”

The other commentator nodded.

“I hear her howling about, ‘healthcare reform, and equal pay, and childcare,’ and I’m like, okay! If I vote for you, will you stop talking!”

They cackled with amusement.

“I don’t know how Governor Clinton could stand it! What he saw in her… I haven’t a clue. I mean, look at his ex-wife and ex-girlfriend.”

“Well, maybe she has some secret talent we don’t know about, if you know what I mean.”

“Well… Let’s leave the discussion on that thought…”

* * *

He stood behind the curtain, peaking out at his full crowd in the high school auditorium. This was one of the most enthusiastic crowds he’d had. His fingers tingled with excitement. He prepared his stump speech himself, changing a few words here and there as the audience changed. The ‘as prepared’ version always differed from the ‘as delivered.’ That was just how he was, a talker. He had chosen the right profession.

The diverse audience included a myriad of different ethnicities, genders, and ages. Many were wearing official campaign gear and waving campaign signs. He scanned the crowd, finding encouragement in the number of positive signs he saw. Then, he saw one, a sign in the crowd that caught his immediate fury.

He turned away from the crowd and to his security. “There’s one out there. I want him out,” he ordered with a voice that elicited absolutely no argument.

“Who?” his security detail pressed.

He pointed with laser like accuracy. “That man with the deplorable sign.”

The agent easily spotted the sign he referenced. He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.” This wasn’t the first time the Governor gave him that order, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Moments later the man and his sign were removed from the auditorium, but he persisted chanting outside the building, sending out his message.

Will you vote for the next President, or his Slut?

* * *

Day 100 of the campaign. The passing weeks had done a number on her mentally and physically. Her poll numbers were steady at best but undoubtedly in slow decline. The beast had also taken it’s toll on her wellbeing.

As was usual in a campaign, the voters got to see how their candidates held up under pressure. It was the ultimate test of endurance and preparedness. Every meal they ate reported. Every hand shook, another vote. Every speech, picked apart for weaknesses. Every statement, taken as policy. In public, she passed on all accounts, but behind the scenes was a different story. Her frustration level and stamina were running low. Her rhinoceros hide wasn’t strong enough to make her immune. She was more than exhausted by the end of her days and the nights alone were way too short. Introvert that she was, she didn’t let on to anyone.

She pushed on. The final debate was approaching like the finish line in a seemingly never ending race and she was ready to make her last plea to the American people. But not before taking care of her emotional needs.

* * *

He had just returned to his hotel for the night after a dinner with the locals and a few state officials. It was a tiring conversation with small minded self-proclaimed ‘future leaders’ who saw only the fame and profits. He immediately caught onto their feigning tone and ignorance and was disappointed by the lack of grasp to the public service aspect of being an elected official. That was one of the driving forces he vowed to never forget.

With his staff surrounding him and constantly bellowing their plans in his ears, somehow, a porter cut through them.

“Mr. Governor, you have a message that came to the front desk while you were gone.”

“Thank you, son,” he thanked the boy while an aide took the written note.

With the boy returning to his job, the aide read the sender’s name. “Miss Abedin?”

Bill ripped the card from his hands. “Give me that!” He read:

I’m relaying this information to you at her demand. She will be in New York the night before the debate at the McAllen Hotel.

Abedin

“George,” he addressed his aide while reading the uplifting message again. “I want to be in New York a day early so I have time to finish debate preparations.”

His aide nodded making a mental note to fit that in the schedule.

“And I’ve heard that the McAllen Hotel is the best place to stay.” He walked away, head up and a bounce in his step. “Make it happen.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purely fiction! Enjoy!

The McAllen hotel; swarming with press outside each door reporting live with the expectations and topics of conversation for the next day’s debate. Their guests each had their own predictions and experiences to add, some well thought out, some said only for show. The swirl of speculation surrounded the hotel like a hurricane. But in the eye was calm focus.

New stations received updates on how each candidate’s debate prep was going inside the hotel. Each had their own conference room for the evening. Some took this last minute prep more seriously than others.

Senator Rodham spent 3 hours, 6pm to 9pm, in mock sessions with her staff feeding her every possible question she could be asked and she rehearsed every possible answer in her fierce tone, with confidence, and honesty.

On the other hand, Governor Clinton’s aides tossed him questions in a more relaxed method. They practiced his appearance, posture, walk-on, and how he would approach each question. They snowballed him a few questions and he maneuvered his answers expertly, leaving his audience feeling important and heard.

At around 10:00, with their preparations complete for the night, he walked back to his hotel room. One by one, his aides left their last messages with him and then went their own way. He half listened, gradually switching his mind from campaign warrior to hopelessly in love victim. Soon it was only him and George.

“…We will have to have a press conference the day after, hopefully to build off out debate momentum and not take back or clarify anything you might say…”

“George,” he interrupted, his mind now fully switched. “Her room number?”

His aide narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together in obvious frustration. “Governor, this is NOT my job to cover for you. Your mess will soon be our mess when this inevitably makes front page…”

“Room number,” he now demanded with equal frustration.

He submitted, unwillingly. “305.”

Governor Clinton turned his back and forcefully walked the rest of the way to his room. He sensed the aide was still watching him. He knew it wasn’t fair to them, to have to keep this secret when their ultimate goal was to take her down. All the work they had put in to build up their candidate and now he was sleeping with the enemy. He owed him something.

“I can’t make sense of it either,” he said softly over his shoulder, eyes on the carpet. “All I know is that I love her and she makes me a better person. I can’t let her slip through my fingers again.”

After a moment’s pause, the aide lowered his head and lumbered back to his own room. With a more sympathetic view or not, Bill didn’t know or particularly care.

* * *

In the eye of the hurricane, quiet, calm, serenity.

“Hi, honey.” She opened the door with a languid motion and spoke in an unusually soft voice.

“Hey, baby!” he exclaimed sliding through the door and closing it himself before letting his lips descend upon hers for a quick peck.

Pulling back, he looked questionably at her. He didn’t feel her reciprocate the kiss. Her lips bent in a lovely smile, but her eyes were sagging.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“What?” she questioned, not sure where he drew that conclusion.

“Baby, you look exhausted,” he deducted upon further inspection of her heavy, tight shoulders disheveled hair, and choice of comfortable flannel pajamas and robe. He brought a free hand to her forehead. “You’re clammy!”

She snickered. “I had a warm wet towel over my head just before you came in.” She walked further into her little hotel room. With a kitchenette and a decent sized couch, there wasn’t much free room to move about. “Are you moving in?”

He knew she was talking about the 3 piece suit he carried on a hanger. “I thought I would bring it so we could spend more time together tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, so you’ve invited yourself for a sleepover.”

He caught her jovial tone. “I have. Both of us deserve a lie in.” He twisted his mouth, amused with his next childish flashback. “I asked my mother and my mother said yes.”

She smiled at his joke, sitting herself back down on the couch and curling up with the blanket, as she was before he knocked. “Well, my mother specifically asked to have a talk with you after the debate tomorrow.” She stared at him with eyebrows quirked, hoping he understood.

He did. “You told her…” He sighed, suddenly finding another weight added to his already heaping shoulders. “God, what’s she gonna do to me?”

“Probably tell you to get out of my bedroom…” She yawned.

He laid his clothing over a free chair and walked to the sofa. “Long day?” he asked sitting on the other side and raising an arm, inviting her over.

She didn’t need any more prompting to sit up on her knees and then fall back down against his chest, her legs curled up beside her and the blanket now spread over both of them. “When are our days ever not long,” she brushed off his concern.

“True, but what happened to my thoroughbred? Stamina was her middle name.”

“She’s still here!” she said defensively. “She’s allowed to recharge at the end of the day, just like this old, stallion.” She poked his chest finding her finger barred from skin by his old blue robe and undershirt. That had to change.

Chuckling, he brought her fingers to his lips. “How have you been?” he asked, not wanting to bring up the relentless attacks she was under, but still wanting to know how she fared.

Before she could answer, assuring him she was fine and didn’t need any special consideration, another knock rapped on the door snapping both their heads in that direction.

“Just a minute,” Hillary called out, standing quickly… too quickly. She felt lightheaded and had to pause a moment before moving to the door.

“I have your copy of tomorrow’s schedule, Senator.” The voice of her assistant campaign manager came from the other side of the door.

She turned to the sofa and Bill laid down, so he was hidden from obvious view.

Cracking the door, she reached her hand through. “Thank you Laura. I’ll look this over. Goodnight.” The door shut without any room for additional conversation.

Bill sat up again and started laughing, a memory sparking in his brain. “You remember last time…”

“Shhhh,” she insisted, walking back toward him. “She can probably still hear.”

He spoke softer. “You remember last time we were sneaking around… at Yale.”

She quirked her eyebrows, not sure what he was talking about.

“You remember! That old bat of a professor who scared the dickens out of you!”

She remembered that! “Oh yes! How could I forget her!” After discarding the schedule on a table, she settled herself back into his side.

“You hated to miss her class, so I would sneak in with you…”

“That’s right.” She nodded against his chest.

He drew a finger tip slowly down her arm. “…and try to distract you.”

“Um hum.” She remembered that too. She remembered that very well.

When she couldn’t hold back another yawn, he made a declaration. “Alright, let’s put you to bed, baby.” He kissed her forehead before standing and reaching for her hands.

“Really?” she questioned, although complying with his request. “I thought your plan was to tire me out even more so I’d be off my game tomorrow.”

“Not a chance.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked together towards her bedroom. “I need you at your best. I want a fair fight.” He sighed, making a decision. “Which is why I’ll put you to bed and then go back to my room for the night.”

“What?” She turned to him in the doorway, absolute outrage burning from her now rejuvenated eyes. “Did you think I’d actually let you walk out of here without making me see stars, more than once?”

His eyes wide, surprised at her indignation, but not displeased. “I thought I was being polite…”

“Well don’t ever do that again.”

She flung herself at him, mouths connecting in an immediately heated kiss. He was forced to step back so he leaned up against the doorway. She had both their robes off before he could even get his arms around her and her hands ferociously continued their charge, clawing his shirt over his head.

“Jesus, Hilly,” he exhaled searching for oxygen. “Slow down…” She was already reaching her hand down his pajama bottoms and sending his eyes back in his head.

“Can’t keep up?” she panted, dropping to her knees and dragging his bottoms down his legs. “Or maybe I’m planning on tiring you out tonight so you’re off your game tomorrow?”

He hissed overwhelmed by her hot breath and the job she was currently engaged in on a particularly sensitive part of his anatomy. “Hillary Diane…” He reached down and pulled her up by her elbows directly to his mouth. “We’re gonna keep this even.”

And with that promise, he deftly rid her of all clothing and drew her forcefully close, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, arms tangled around the other. He leaned forward, propelling her feet to shuffle backwards until they hit the bed and her body fell against the mattress, his landing right on top of her. They crawled to the middle of the bed, never severing their link. He wiggled his hips until they nestled between her thighs and her legs wrapped around his hips writhing beneath him.

When they finally joined, each moaned deep into the other’s throat both feeling the deep connection on all levels: emotionally, intellectually, and physically. It was so many deep unexplainable feelings rolled up into an overwhelming high that neither could bare to fall from.

“I love you so much, Billy,” she cried, finally connecting with his eyes.

He caressed her exquisite face with such an intense tenderness. In her eyes he saw his entire life: past, present, and future. “I love you too, my Hillary.”

The eye of the hurricane, serene, but only for a moment.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! When I started writing this, this is absolutely not the direction I saw it going in. Enjoy! Purely fiction!

She felt it again, her dinner not agreeing with her. The stress and the constant traveling manifested, forcing her to slip out of his arms in the early morning light and straight to the bathroom.

* * *

 

He groaned, opening his eyes to a new hotel room, all too similar to the round of hotel rooms he had frequented over the past months. But this one was slightly warmer, more welcoming, and felt like home. And he knew exactly why.

She appeared from the bathroom, robe tied loosely around her slim waist. A delighted smile graced her face as she drew in the sight of him sprawled on the bed, watching her, waiting for her, yearning for her.

“Good morning, baby,” he crooned, morning grogginess nowhere in his vocabulary.

“Morning,” she answered walking over to his side of the bed and leaning over for a kiss. “You sure are chipper.”

He kept his eyes on her and nodded, happy to stare at her all day. “I slept better than I have in weeks.”

She kissed him again. “I’m glad.” Walking around to the other side of the bed, she flopped down beside him and let out a groan, sagging her weary and sore body into the plush bedding.

He studied her. He could tell she wasn’t feeling well, even though she wouldn’t admit it out loud. ‘Never complain’ was her motto from day one. She knew and fully embodied the fact that someone elsewhere had it far worse and is not complaining. She made it her life’s work to reach out to and help those people, as did he. But he made it his current mission to take care of her.

“Turn over,” he instructed, nudging her shoulder and sitting up so he hovered over her.

She complied without question.

With her on her stomach, he reached for her shoulders and helped her shrug her robe down to her waist, revealing her bare back and tight muscles. He lifted a, still bare, leg over her body straddling her and sitting on her bottom.

“Okay?” he asked, making sure his weight was not too much for her.

She sighed, releasing some built up tension and nodded.

He watched her eyes close peacefully, putting her entire trust in him. He knew she didn’t open up easily, and he thanked his lucky stars that she gave that trust to him.

He began working his agile fingers at her shoulder blades, receiving an immediate gratifying moan. As soon as that sensation shot to her brain, she naturally tensed.

“Relax, baby,” his suave voice caressed her ears.

He felt her gradually release, opening up her muscles to his service.

“What time do you have to be ready by?” he inquired, suddenly aware of their time limit and necessary discretion.

“10:00. I’ve requested a late start time.” She moaned when he hit a particularly tight spot on her shoulder.

“That gives us until 9:50.” He changed the subject, to one they both dove into head first. “Did you see the President’s latest statement on Israel and Jerusalem?”

“Yes…” she growled, obviously as frustrated with the statement as he was. “He can make as many fucking statements he wants, but until he actually does something or at least makes the motions of doing something I won’t believe him.”

“And is it even worth the consequences?” He argued, absolutely agreeing with her. “I’m more entitled to wait it out and see the way the tides go in their next election.”

She nodded in her hazy pleasure. “I like the way you think, Governor.”

“Do you?” He changed the subject again. “So when you win…”

She scoffed.

“When you win,” he continued, his tone light. “What job are you gonna give me in your administration?”

“Hum,” she thought. Their conversation was purely in fun, but had undertones of reality that neither could deny.

“Come on, tell me,” he nudged her. “VP, Secretary of State…”

“Easy,” she finally decided, giving him a look from the corner or her eye. “My own personal masseuse.”

He laughed heartily, digging his exquisite fingers deeper into her tense tissue. “I’ll take it! At your beck and call, Madam President.”

Finishing his treatment, he placed a kiss at the base of her neck and another between her shoulder blades, taking pleasure in her warm, sweet skin. He slid down her back, interlocking their legs and laid half on top of her, resting his head on her pillow facing her still closed eyes.

“And when I am President, what job shall I choose for you? Hum?”

She opened her eyes, appreciating the warmth of his breath against her cheek and his weight still pressing against her, keeping her secured. “How about gourmet chef?”

“Good God no!” He admonished, rolling to his side. “You can’t make one half decent pie and call yourself a gourmet cook.”

She tapped his chest with her fingertip. “Watch it Sir, I prepare your food so you better be nice to me.”

“How about you exclusively cook my meals, as I happen to love your peach pie, and we’ll let the experts handle the state dinners?”

“Deal!” she giggled, snuggling deeper into his side resting her head on his chest.

He took a moment to really feel her, feel her solid presence against him, her fingertips as they bore right into his soul, her remarkable intellectual capabilities that met and challenged his own, her loving heart that poured forth for him.

“There’s one job that I feel you are uniquely qualified for.” He spoke softly in earnest.

“And that is…” she inquired.

He took a breath. “First Lady.” His decision hung in the air.

She inhaled and exhaled before asking, “What?”

Using the back of his fingers, he tilted her chin off his chest so he could look into her eyes. “You heard me. No matter the outcome, I want to be beside you or you beside me. Not one in front of the other.” His eyes exuding his deep feeling for her. “I trust you, I love you, and I need you no matter what.”

She felt numb. So many different thoughts should be swirling through her mind, but instead it was blank. There were countless reasons to refuse him and countless reasons to accept. Was it worth the effort to go through each and every detail and think it through when she already knew what her final answer would be?

“You can think about it as long as you’d like this time. I won’t press you, because one thing I do know is…” he paused. “I’m not marrying anyone else.”

“Yes.” She needn’t hesitate when she was so sure of her ultimate decision. “Yes, honey. I want you beside me no matter what.”

He couldn’t put into words the incredible relief that flooded him upon hearing her answer. No matter what happened, they would be alright. The gratified expression that lit up his entire being was matched by her radiant smile that reached her clear, euphoric eyes. She straightened her body and planted herself on top of him, her mouth descending on his sealing their pact, unconditionally.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day! I hope this brightens up your day. Once again, this is not at all what I originally planned to happen, but this is how it turned out. I think I'm happy with it... thoughts? Purely Fiction.

Third debate, the night that would, potentially, take one of them straight to the oval office. And both candidates came with their game faces on and their unmatched talents on show, each a manifestation of confidence.

The setup, the same. Three players (including the moderator), two podiums, and only one would win. Each stood behind their podium, him in blue her in white. The red carpet between them completed the patriotic picture. He had the first question, answering with a cutting criticism of the current administration’s policies. She parried with equal criticisms and strategies to face the challenges in a new administration. The debate continued like that, until the final half hour.

“Thank you Senator Rodham.” The moderator concluded that segment and moved on. “Governor Clinton, some have expressed concern about you lack of clarity on healthcare. Do you support universal healthcare reform and if so, what is your plan?”

“Thank you, Martha. I absolutely support universal healthcare and can absolutely get a plan passed through congress. Look…” He raises both his hands palms facing out and put on that southern draw. “I’m from the south, and our word is taken as a solid promise.” He got the audience to chuckle. “I know that a solid healthcare system will lift many out of poverty, provide financial security, and help with so many other important problems facing many Americans…”

“And increase our infant mortality rate,” she cut in wanting to have her say on healthcare as well.

He didn’t mind. “Yes, which is actually much higher in America than you’d expect…”

“10 out of every 1,000 infants,” she nodded towards him.

“Exactly. 10.37 according to the UN.” Their cut and thrust flowed effortlessly, natural for them but a unique scene for the people watching.

“And in child mortality, we’re one of the lowest of all developed countries. Which is mind boggling to think about with our country’s incredible economic stability and our influence around the world.” She paused to take a breath. When she got passionate about something, she often forgot to breath.

“This is one area both Senator Rodham and I agree on completely, the need in our country for healthcare reform.”

“Except, one of us has outlined a plan and one has not.” She took her dig with an amused tone, not at all accusatory.

He quirked his lips. “I have ideas, and with those ideas I hope to consult more experts in the field who know what works and put together a package when I’m able to put all my energy into it.”

She sucked in her cheeks. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Let’s move onto another question…” The moderator kept the debate on track.

She took another deep breath, feeling herself come down from her adrenaline rush. The breaths weren’t doing their job, only making her head feel foggy. Blinking her eyes, she felt more and more lightheaded. Taking in short breaths and lowering her chin, she tried to bring the blood back to her head, gripping the edges of the wood with a vice like attachment. But it wasn’t working.

He noticed the warning signs from the corner of his eye before it happened: her snow white face, pale knuckles from their fast grip, blank stare at nothing, and a wobble as she rocked on her feet.

The moderator was clueless. “Governor Clinton, what would you do as President in the case of China and their increased influence over neighboring countries…”

“Hillary…” he called right before watching her knees buckle and fingers slip from their grasp on the podium. He watched her collapse, folding in over herself as she fell to the ground.

Instincts kicked in. All thoughts of perception flew from his distraught mind. He rushed across the stage like a bullet released from a gun. “Hillary!”

He knelt at her side, looked upon her pale face, eyes shut, mouth slightly open. Reaching for her shoulders he pulled her upper body off the floor and supported her back in his arms. “Hill, honey,” he pleaded, needing her eyes to open.

Secret Service surrounded her almost as fast as he did, one at her feet and one at her head.

The head agent shoved Bill’s shoulder trying to assess his security detail’s condition. “Sir, step back!” he ordered, voice bellowing and not inviting any debate.

Bill didn’t hear him. “Baby, open you eyes, please.” He freed a hand to cup her cheek trying to rub the warmth back into them.

“Sir, STEP BACK!” This time the agent grabbed his arm and yanked him back, but that only jostled both the Governor and the Senator held fast in his arms.

The jostle caught Bill’s attention and he pulled away. “Get off me!” He looked again at his love’s face. He watched her scrunch her eyes shut before blinking them open again. “Her eyes are open!” He announced. “Hill, take deep breaths honey. Are you okay?”

She followed his advice and brought oxygen back into her body, letting the blood flow back to her head. Now conscious, she nodded. “I’m okay.” She pat his hand that hadn’t moved from her cheek.

“Let’s get you up.” He gripped her fingers that slid over his.

She nodded. “And water.”

“I know.” He readjusted his arm so it was under her armpits and ready to help her stand.

Secret Service had another plan. “Madam, stay sill so we can…”

“It’s okay,” Bill interjected helping her to her feet. “She’s just dehydrated.” He’d seen it before and started to relax after he realized that was most likely what happened.

Now on her feet, she felt much steadier and subtly separated from her supports. Realizing she had to make some sort of statement, she turned to her mic and addressed the distressed and intrigued crowd, along with the millions of viewers at home. “I’m sorry about that…” she smiled, trying to cover up how absolutely embarrassed she was. “I’m afraid I’m dehydrated and need a moment, if you’ll excuse me.”

She stepped back from the podium and felt her head fog up again. “Bill,” she called quietly.

He immediately responded with the offer of a hand and an arm around her waist.   
Huma met them at the curtain line and lead them to the green room where she could sit on a semi-comfortable sofa.

Settling herself on the seat, her jaw dropped, reality sinking in. “Oh God!” she began to panic, heart rate accelerating. “I can’t believe I just fainted in front of the entire nation! Shit, what a story that’ll make!” The damage was done.

Huma sat down beside her and handed her a bottle of water. “I know,” she tried to downplay the consequences. “You were superb up until then.”

“Huma!” She wasn’t taking any of the coddling, her voice rising with frustration. “I collapsed on live TV! You can’t spin that any other way!” She took another sip of water. “How the fuck am I going to walk myself out of this?”

Another aide ran past them. “The rest of the debate has been canceled. We’re heading to the spin room. What’s our story?”

A few of her people gathered together. “She’s fine now, only dehydrated, and a doctor is coming to reassure us of that diagnosis.”

“So we can tell the press to expect a doctor’s all clear sometime tomorrow morning?”

“Correct, and until then, push the healthcare topic as much as you can. That was our strongest moment…” The team of spinners turned the corner, off to work a miracle.

“Dr. Bardack will be here soon,” Huma informed her while standing, making eye contact with the man hovering in the corner of the room.

He stood back, leaning against the wall. Their teams mulled about eyeing him curiously, waiting for him to leave. But he didn’t volunteer to leave and she didn’t ask him to.

Huma turned again to her boss. “I’ll bring Dr. Bardack to your dressing room when she arrives. You’ll have privacy there.”

Hillary nodded, taking another sip of water. “Thank you Huma. I think I’ll wait there.”

She walked through the small hallway and into her designated room for the evening, usually a dressing room during other events. Where she walked, her shadow followed not wanting to intrude, but needing to be near her. Once again, she let him.

“Here, sit on the sofa,” Huma directed her, adding a few pillows for support.

“Thank you but I’m not an invalid,” she replied half grateful.

“Do you need more water?” Huma asked, looking down at her boss with concern.

She shook her head. “No, I have enough here.” She held up the water bottle.

“What about another pillow?”

“I’m fine Huma,” she growled squeezing her eyes shut, not at all enjoying the unnecessary pampering.

Bill spoke up from his place against the wall. “Huma, you have her contacts case and glasses?”

Huma turned sharply to the elephant in the room. She nodded.

“Hill?” he asked her.

Hillary reluctantly nodded. She would feel better without her contacts in.

Huma left the room to get her bag.

Alone together, he took three large strides over to her and bent to kiss her forehead, cupping her neck in his broad hand. “Her only fault is caring too much,” he whispered against her hairline. “And that is only the warmup to what will happen when your mother fights her way in here.”

She chuckled, calming herself. She knew he was right.

Huma reentered with the glasses and case. Hillary took a moment to relieve her eyes and slipped her glasses on her nose.

The knock on the door set them all on edge again and sent Bill back to a corner chair.

“Dr. Bardack, thank you for coming.” Huma let her in.

“Of course, I’m only sorry it’s under such circumstances.” She addressed the patient on the couch. “Hello Hillary. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Doctor, really. I think it was just another case of dehydration.” She shook her hand as the Doctor took a seat opposite her.

“Very possible, but to be sure I’ll take a look at a few other possibilities, alright?”

Hillary nodded, knowing she had to.

Noticing the other man and woman who had planted themselves in the room, she felt compelled to ask, “Are you ready to begin?”

Nodding again, Dr. Bardack took that as a sign that they were both welcome.

She took heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen levels before sitting and asking a few questions.

“When was the last time you ate today?”

“About three hours ago.”

“And how much did you drink today?”

“Coffee in the morning and another bottle of water throughout the day.”

The Doctor hummed acknowledging the answer. “Has this fainting happened recently?”

“I’ve felt the dizziness, but it passes if I can sit down.”

“And sleep?”

“Enough, at least 5-6 hours a night.”

“Are you any more tired than normal?”

She sighed. “Yes, but I expected that with this campaign and constant travel.”

The Doctor nodded never losing eye contact with the patient. “You’re still eating properly?”

“I eat when I can, but my staff keeps up with making sure I’m properly fed. Unfortunately, the food is doesn’t always agree with me.”

“Okay,” she was interested in hearing more. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’ve had an upset stomach a few times.”

“And when was the last time you experienced that?”

“This morning.” She looked up at the man still sitting quietly but perceptively in the corner.

He crossed his eyebrows, questioning her.

“Right when I woke up.” She spoke to the doctor, but she clarified for him.

“I see. Ms Rodham, is there any chance you may be pregnant?”

As that message left the doctor’s mouth, it didn’t reach the patient’s ears for a good 10 seconds and her brain 10 seconds after that. Jaw slackened, heart pounded faster than it ever had. Air escaped her, breathing was the last thing on her mind. Sitting there still as a statue, she felt dizzier than ever. Her hands became incredibly clammy, fingers twitching without receiving that message from her brain, and shoulders as stiff as a board.

Like lightening shooting through the sky, her eyes flashed to his. Appearing only slightly more composed, his jaw was clear on the ground and his blue eyes absolutely blank with shock. She must have forgotten to blink for awhile, because when she did the wetness pooled in the corner of her eyes. Wiping it quickly away, she didn’t have to answer Dr. Bardack’s original question.

“I’ll make an appointment for you tomorrow.” She made a note on the pad of paper she carried.

“The earlier the better,” Huma interceded, putting on her voice of practicality and scheduling.

“Yes, 8:30?”

Huma answered for them. “That will work.”

Dr. Bardack stood, quite confident in her preliminary analysis. “I’ll see you then Hillary.”

She left without interrupting the staring contest still going on.

“Bill,” she mouthed without a sound escaping.

His chest heaved once, audibly sucking in air.

“Huma!” she called breaking their intense connection. “I want a home test in my hotel room tonight, sooner if possible!” Her voice loud and anxious.

Huma nodded, planning on completing that task herself.

“And this CANNOT leak to the press! Under any and all circumstances.”

She nodded absolutely understanding the discretion she needed to use. She grabbed her purse and left on her mission.

Hillary couldn’t sit anymore. Standing on her now extremely unsteady feet she paced the small room. “Nothing is certain, yet. I can’t bare to think about it until I know for sure.” She spoke mostly to herself, but also the the other occupant who still had not uttered a sound.

As she was pacing, a new player entered the room bringing her worry with her. “Hillary! You’re okay?” Dorothy went straight to her daughter and took her shoulders in her hands giving her a once over with her careful eyes.

“Yea, Mom,” she forced herself to calm down. “Just dehydration again,” she waddled around the possible truth.

“Thank heaven.” She touched her daughter’s cheek. “You should hear the stories going around. What all those people should be worried about is if you’re alright.”

Until then, Hillary had forgotten all about her previous scene. “They’ll talk…” That was all she could mutter out, mind occupied with something else entirely.

Dorothy’s focus went to the surprise guest still sitting in the corner, now with his hands folded at his chin. “Bill,” she addressed him with a protective reserve. They had gotten along incredibly well before, but this was under different circumstances. “I should ask what you’re doing in here, but I won’t.”

“Dorothy Rodham.” He rasped, surprised those were the first words he was able to utter after such ground shaking news. Standing, he reached for her shoulders and placed a kiss on her cheek. “You haven’t changed.”

Hillary stepped in. “I’m sorry mom, but this will have to wait for another time. I want to get back to the hotel.”

“Yes, Hillary,” she said switching to the all caring mother tone. “You rest and take it easy tomorrow. Bill and I can talk without you.”

“No,” she said standing up and gathering a few things. “Bill has to get some rest too. Don’t pester him tonight, Mom. There’ll be time for that later.”

Dorothy pursed her lips and folded her hands at her waist, not happy to delay their conversation.

“Thanks Mom,” Hillary kissed her mother’s cheek as she rushed out the door.

Alone with his lover’s mother, he felt her blazing eyes scorching over him focusing on the deepest depths of his eyes. She was searching for his motive, his ambitions, his faults, his vices, and the truth behind his next words.

“Bill,” Hillary called from outside the door, hurrying him along and letting him know she wanted him with her.

He would have followed right away, but he had to get through her mother first.

Stepping close to her, his hands at his side, his feet firmly planted, his eyes challenging her most negative thoughts, he spoke. His voice emanated absolute sincerity. “I love her, Dorothy. More than I can ever hope to express.” He kissed her cheek, just as Hillary had done. “I’ll talk to you soon.” And with that, he followed Hillary down the hall.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the last chapter I have ready for now. Short, but I think this is my favorite chapter so far! Let me know what you think!! Purely fiction.

Taking separate cars and ignoring the storm of questions the press threw at them, they arrived quickly at their secured hotel where all the press had to stay outside.

At her request, he threw down his things in his hotel room, barked a few orders to his staff, and rushed over to her room.

In hindsight, opening the door without even knocking was probably not the best idea. Her senior staff turned to the intruder with both surprise and indignation. The staff of seven previously sat leisurely in a circle in the living area, but upon glancing at their opponent they went into defense mode. One standing to his full height stepped to meet the trespasser.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” he barked, receiving physical support from another who now stood beside him. The rest sat completely speechless at the audacity to infiltrate their space.

Bill was persistent, not concerned how they perceived him in this moment or his boldness. “Huma,” he searched for an ally in the group, finding her sitting hunched over away from the core group, head propped in her hand and looking distraught.

Knowing she had no power in whatever was to happen next, she subsided. “She’s in her bedroom…”

“Thanks,” he breathed out quickly, the tension rising in his chest. With the blessing of her top aide and not waiting for anyone else to ask questions, he rushed to her bedroom door and pulled it shut behind him.

“Hill,” he called desperately upon observing her room was empty.

“In here.” The voice came from the bathroom.

There she stood, wearing stretch pants, a blue long sleeved shirt, glasses, and bare feet. Her fingertips rested on the counter on either side of the sink supporting her as she leaned over the small device in the sink.

“It said three minutes.”

He walked to her side. “How long has it been?”

“Almost two.”

“Come here,” he said, pulling her away from her intense concentration.

He held her hips tightly against his and wrapped his arms around her lower back. Her hands fell naturally to his chest. She couldn’t seem to bring her chin up far enough to look at him. Her entire body was filled with anticipation, her breathing labored, her lips pressed so tightly together they were turning white, her head spinning in 25 different directions all contemplating the same question: What if?

“Honey, shhh.” He tried to calm her with short strokes to her back. It was a challenge in itself to attempt to calm her when he himself was losing all control of his own balance. “No matter what,” his voice shook with adrenaline. “I love you and nothing will change.”

She nodded her head ferociously, confident that would be his answer but pleased to hear it vocalized. “I love you too.” Her eye wandered the room, shallow breaths breaking her words. “I don’t know what… I want this so… But I can’t bare to… hope… Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

He pulled her head to his chest. “Close you eyes, baby. You’re fine and we’ll be fine one way or another.”

She listened and the rolling of her stomach halted enough to make her feel secure again. With her hands still on his chest, she felt his rapidly beating heart and knew he was as worked up as she was. Feeling the time pass, she knew three minutes was up. “It’s probably time,” she whispered.

He exhaled, “Oh shit,” that natural hysteria slipping from his lips without filtering through his head.

She freed her arms and turned to the sink where the test sat. He pressed close behind her, his hands gripping the edge of the counter and eyes staring down at the little device.

She lifted it without saying a word.

His eyes fell where hers did, but with no comprehension. “Hilly,” he said obviously agitated and anxious. “What does it say? Two lines, what does that mean?”

When she was sure her eyes weren’t failing her and he confirmed what she saw, she tilted her head back to rest on his shoulder and closed her eyes. “It means we’re having a baby.”

He swallowed letting her words wash over him. “Oh my God.” His jaw slack, arms limp, and heart rate accelerating at an incredible speed. “Oh my God, Hilly.” He needed to see her face. Turning her with one swift motion, he cupped her luminous face between his palms. “We’re having a baby,” he whispered.

She nodded, her face even more aglow from watching his reaction. “We are.”

He pulled her lips to his, kissing her quickly but thoroughly. “We’re having a baby,” he repeated louder as the idea solidified.

She nodded again, her hands coming to lay on top of his. “Yes, honey.”

“Oh my God.” He wrapped his arms around her to hold her as tightly as possible. “Oh God!” He started laughing with absolute joy. “Hillary!”

She joined in his jubilant laughter. This was a moment she prayed so many times to experience in her life; Celebrating a new life that was hers to raise, care for, and love. Beyond that dream, she was joined in celebration by a man, the only man she could ever envision to be her child’s father.

He pulled back unexpectedly and her eyes went immediately to his face to see why.

“Hillary! The campaign… How… You can’t… Not that you can’t, but… shouldn’t…”

She watched his mind turning with every possible outcome imaginable. Stopping his brooding, she brought her lips to his immediately deepening the kiss before pulling back slightly. “Please let me be deliriously happy for another five minutes before we leave this room and have to make decisions.”

“Of course, baby.” He forced himself to block all further thoughts, instead snaking his hands down to her stomach and envisioning their child growing inside her. “I love you so much, my girl.”

“I love you too,” she answered in awe of his loving strokes over her stomach. Bringing her glowing eyes to meet his, she sang. “Wake up, it’s a Chelsea morning.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you to all who have reached out and inquired about where I was with updates! I'm so glad people are still enjoying this story. I have 3 chapters done... so watch this space for the next few days. Once again, purely fiction!
> 
> We begin with a flashback...

_“Dinner tonight?” he asked, glancing at her quickly before turning his eyes back to the road in front of him. His beat up car creaking with every bump in the dusty road._

_She tilted her head back against the headrest and his arm that wrapped around her. Her knees pulled close to her chest as her bare feet tapped against the dashboard. She brushed a lock of her long silky hair back behind her ear and her glasses. “How about Mexican?”_

_The shocked expression on his rough, stubbled face made her smile. “And where else would we go while in Texas?”_

_“Oh I bet we could find some adequate Italian place…”_

_“Psh,” he brushed her off. “For you, darlin’, Mexican. Somethin’ extra spicy to compliment my red hot girl.”_

_She felt it again. Her eyes scrunched closed and a high pitch squeal unconsciously slipped through the back of her throat. Of course he heard it._

_“What’s wrong babe?” He removed his arm from her shoulder and brought it to her knee._

_“Nothing.” The feeling passed and her face returned to normal. “Just cramps. It’ll pass.”_

_“Oh,” he mumbled head snapping back to the road. That topic was not at all in his comfort zone. “You need to stop?”_

_“Eventually,” she answered relaxing her stomach muscles and gearing up for the next inevitable shot of pain. “They’re not usually this bad.”_

_“Well stop soon.” He focused once again on the road and they let Joni Mitchell fill their auditory needs for about 2 minutes before the car began to slow down._

_“Bill,” she began, watching his eyes search the dashboard wondering what was wrong._

_“Oh, shit.” Pulling the car to the side as it stopped by itself, he slunk back in his seat and slapped the wheel._

_The guffaws of laughter that poured forth from her made her stomach hurt more than any of the cramps. She held her sides as she wobbled around in the seat, completely off balance._

_“What?” He asked, slightly annoyed and slightly amused._

_She snickered. “Stuck in the middle of nowhere… and now what…”_

_“Well,” he opened his car door and stepped out. “I’m afraid I don’t find our situation as amusing as you do.”_

_“Oh come on,” she playfully scolded coming down from her humorous high. “There comes a point where all you can do is laugh.” She rounded the front of the car where he was currently peering under the hood. “What do you see?” she inquired leaning over him._

_He rolled his head toward her. “I see you’re entire future under here,” he smirked._

_“Oh really,” she quirked a smile. “All I see is a heap of metal and wheels that looks like a stop car instead of a go car.”_

_He nodded, approving of her analysis. “Yup that’s pretty much all I see too.”_

_Grabbing her hand, he pulled her to the side of the car facing the road. “Alright pull that skirt up a bit.”_

_“What? Why?” She looked questionably at him._

_“Because we need a ride to town. And your legs are better bait than mine.”_

* * *

_Later that day, though it seemed a lifetime from their previous troubles, she emerged from the bathroom, confusion and a numb shock etched on her face._

_“Bill,” she stood in the doorway, as still as their immobile car waiting for him to turn from the small sofa in her current living quarters._

_“Yea?” he responded eyes still glued to the TV screen._

_“I think…” she tried to speak louder. “I think I’ve just had a miscarriage…”_

_That drew his attention. “What?” His mouth handing open, eyebrows crossed._

_“A miscarriage,” she said it again with a more doctor like voice, stating a fact._

_“But you weren’t…”_

_“I didn’t think so, but I may have…”_

_His mother was a nurse. He knew it happened, but never before to him, to them. What was the correct response to have? They still had years of school left to go. They weren’t ready for a baby. Was this fate? A warning? Or a punishment? “Baby,” he addressed her from his place on the sofa. “I don’t know what to say.” It was a first._

_“Neither do I.” She stared back at him, not content with the slight relief she felt but very aware of the deep sorrow threatening to overwhelm her._

_“Are you okay?” He raised a hand over the back of the sofa, beckoning her to him._

_She moved to hover over the back of the sofa, taking his hand in hers. “I’m okay. I’ll want to see a doctor to make sure everything’s fine.”_

_“Of course.” He was glad she thought of that._

_“I’m just…” she looked down to her hands. “…worried now.”_

_“About what?” He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb._

_“That when I am ready I may not be able to…” That was her greatest fear and sorrow. “You know how I feel about having a baby.” Without releasing any tears, her eyes went wide with panic and worry._

_“Shhh, baby.” He got onto his knees and leaned against the back of the sofa so he could face her. “It’ll happen for you, for us. This was one time…”_

_“Yes, but was it because of something I did?” She spoke violent through clenched teeth. “Did I cause it? What if I’d known earlier?”_

_“No, no baby. Don’t talk like that.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her head down to his shoulder, slowly stroking his fingers through her long blonde hair. “Darlin’ if it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”_

* * *

She opened her eyes. The hotel ceiling still black from the shadow of night. She turned for what seemed like the hundredth time to her other side, bringing with her a pillow to wrap her arms around. He left shortly after they found out. They made a plan for the next morning, but that was hours away. No sleep came to her, only mountains of worry.

Her campaign flew through her head, that would be a big decision. Then the fact that she wasn’t married, that would be fixed soon if she had anything to do about it. But who she was marrying was another huge wrench in a smooth plan. She was sure this marriage would be the absolute worst thing possible for either of them politically. But the constant scrutiny and criticism they were sure to receive was nothing compared to the overwhelming benefit of having the other in their life.

All these worries lined up and she scrutinized them one by one. But that only took about half an hour. The rest of her night had been spent reliving that summer afternoon driving through Texas and that evening at her living quarters. The incredible worries that began that day were now back and stronger than ever. She couldn’t bare to loose this child, so longed for and prayed for.

That scene played in her head over and over again. “If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purely Fiction!

At 9:15 am, she emerged from the doctor’s office and stepped lightly down the few steps outside. Her eyes covered by shaded glasses, her arms draped with a purse and light jacket, and her expression unreadable.

Unfortunately, she didn’t make it out of the hotel early enough to beat the press. Questions flew over her head as she ducked into the car, ignoring every jab and inquiry. Thankfully, there was nobody waiting to take a picture at the entrance to the doctor’s office. She was in and out in less than an hour, a completely changed being.

Her string of vans lined the front of the office. Her security ushered her into the first waiting car. Huma, who had accompanied her in, stepped into the second car for reasons explained by the other passenger secretly smuggled into the first car with the Senator. It was not an easy task. He had to switch cars twice to loose the press before finally joining her. Once reunited, he held her hand for the rest of the drive and held his breath for the entire 45 minutes she was in with the doctor.

“And?” he asked with anticipation as the door closed behind her.

She took her time, removed her glasses, and shook out her hair before reaching for his hand and slowly nodding her head. With that final confirmation, their lives skidded to a halt and turned completely upside down.

“We need to talk.” Her body suddenly tensed and her hand gripped his even tighter.

“Okay,” he muttered, knowing his euphoria needed to come in second at the moment due to the seriousness of her tone. “I still want to marry you if that’s what you’re worried about.” He spoke furiously, wanting to quickly ease her mind. “And we can get married as soon as possible to keep up appearances if you want to. Or we can wait until after the convention or election or whenever you want to.”

Funny, the thought that he would change his mind was never even a consideration. “It’s not that.” She paused bringing their joined hands into her lap. “I still want to marry you too.” Her words a salve to his soul. “But,” she shook her head with resignation. “The campaign, the presidency, I’m exhausted as it is, just think how I’ll feel in 8 months…”

“Oh Hill.” He turned his body in the tight van seat to face her better.

Her head dipped, drooping with the weight of the worries piling up inside her. He knew why.

Now on the edge of his seat, he moved his hands to her arms and stroked them gently up and down. “Honey maybe a few nights of good rest and some time off…”

She shook her head, stopping him firmly mid sentence. “No, no.” She raised her chin so her introspective eyes meet his, her voice ardent and deep. “A baby means everything to me and I won’t do anything to put that in jeopardy.” He understood what this meant to her and for her own health, he was glad to hear her considerations. “No more stress, never ending days, packed schedules, constantly worrying about the press accusations. I can’t put myself and the baby through that.”

He nodded, foreseeing where she was going with this thought process.

“Which is why I think,” she didn’t say this lightly, but instead from years of regret, worry, and a sense of personal priority. “I need to drop out of the race.”

He saw it coming, he knew where her mind was going, but he couldn’t let her do it so easily. “Oh darlin’.” He resumed stroking her arms. “You’ve worked for years to get to this point. All that studying, fighting, the energy, all those rallies, meetings, planning time, you’ve worked too hard to give up your dream in a moment.”

She persisted. “I’m not giving it up, just putting it on hold for something even more important to me.”

“Don’t make a decision right now…” he suggested.

“Billy, you realize that if I drop out you’ll be our next nominee? You’re not a very good campaigner if you’re encouraging your opponent to stay in the race.”

“You’re not my opponent,” he insisted, dragging his hands down her arms to interlace with her hands in her lap. “You’re my future wife and I want you to be satisfied with any decision you make. No regrets.”

“I don’t think I could ever regret devoting time to a child, our child.” Her voice suddenly took on a more playful tone. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not one to content myself with only a home life.”

He chuckled, glad to lighten the conversation. “As if I could possible have thought that.”

“I won’t stop working for good, and maybe someday…” her professional dream was left unsaid, but both understood. “The timing is just…”

“…Shitty.” He finished. It was her ultimately her decision, so he didn’t push. “Take some time,” he requested. “A week or so and think it over, please?”

She knew he was asking for her own good. “I will.” She submitted, though she knew what her final decision would be.

She gave him a half smile, then tilted her head. A plan formulated in her mind. “Bi-lly,” she crooned in a sing song voice. “I know what I want to happen in that week’s time…”

* * *

“We have some breaking news for this hour. The Rodham campaign has just announced they are canceling all campaign related activities for the next week. This comes shortly after Senator Rodham collapsed at the third debate last night. This news comes to us through a doctor’s letter recommending that Senator Rodham take some time off. We’ve reached out to the campaign for comment about whether this is a permanent halt or merely temporary. They have not responded. And with the convention within the month, time is ticking.”

* * *

His schedule remained the same, with two exceptions. He added two new rally locations. The campaign staff didn’t see any strategy behind it, but he was insistent. The first added stop, Chicago. Nobody saw his car leave late that evening and pull up at a small white house in the Chicago suburbs. His security remained outside for the two hour visit and escorted him back to his hotel afterwards. The second stop, Little Rock where his mother joined him at the rally, at his request. After the rally, he took his mother with him to a few shops around Little Rock. It seemed only natural for them to slip into a fine jewelry store. They exited half an hour later with his purchase hidden in his mother’s bag.

In the sky that night, two planes headed to JFK. The plane from Chicago carried a woman and her two sons. The plane from Little Rock carried another woman and her two sons.

Nobody knew that these passengers were traveling to New York for the same reason. Nobody would even think to question it.

Nobody noticed the increased enthusiasm with which the Presidential candidate gave his staff a Friday off. All his people were more than grateful for some time, didn’t think to question it. The press continued their spin without removing their blinders, completely focused on portraying their own story.

No one was watching when on the fifth day of her break, a Friday, the mother and sons from Chicago entered her New York house. That evening, just as the dark was setting in, the group piled in her van, the front lights cutting through the dark to take them to a little church a few miles away. They parked behind the line of black vans that already sat outside.

Already inside the church, the Presidential candidate paced the lobby with his mother and brother trying their best to settle his anticipation. He was struck dumb and still when he heard car doors closing and the front doors of the church opening to it’s new arrivals.

She walked in behind her mother and brothers, them parting to reveal the bride to the groom.

He reached out for her with shaking hands and wobbly knees. Through his damp eyes, he saw her clasp his hand, her white muslim dress curving around her waist and flowing down to her feet. The v-neck framing her chest and the long sleeves draping down her arms.

Only the 5 witnesses in that small church saw them walk down the aisle, beside each other, hand in hand. Only those 5 people heard their vows, heard the promises to love honor and cherish (never obey), their soft sincere voices as they said ‘I do.’

Each pulled out the ring they managed to get on short notice. With deft fingers, preparing to do this exact act for years, they slipped it on the other’s finger.

With the short unceremonious ceremony complete, they sealed their vows with a kiss, the connection seeming all too natural for newlyweds.

They were happy, but they didn’t feel the urge to overly celebrate. This action would cause innumerable consequences, they both walked into their union with eyes wide open. But they knew that any fire they were put through would be worth it in the end. They needed each other emotionally and professionally, like oxygen to their blood, and that would always be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIY in my original planning of this story, there was no pregnancy... but I couldn't have her actually lose the election (though realistically we all know that would have happened in 1993). So I used what I think she would realistically do if she was pregnant, postpone her Presidential aspirations.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter is not finished yet... So I don't know when I will post again... But enjoy this for now! Purely fiction!

“Pile in team Clinton! Let’s go!” James, his campaign chairman, ushered everyone into the largest room in the New York conference center that Saturday morning. “Plenty of room… have a seat if you can find one… let’s move it people, the boss said we only have this swanky room for two hours.”

His staff was still floating on a high from their debate success. There was no doubt their candidate presented a more presidential image than their opponent.

“Alright.” With the staff settling, he closed the door and made his way to the center of the room. “I think we all deserve a round of applause for each and every one of you after our past week’s success.” The applause started right away with a few hoots and hollers added. “I’m sure the Governor will have a few more words for you once he gets here, but let me just say how proud I am of the jobs each and every one of you are doing. And we couldn’t be doing it for any better candidate, am I right?” He rallied more cheers and genuine glee.

“Now I think we need to get an update from George, our press man. I wonder what’s their lead story this morning?” he questioned sarcastically. Everyone knew what the takeaway was from the previous debate and the continuous stories that graced the tabloids every morning since.

George stepped into the center and looked over the few news stories he wanted everyone aware of. “Yea… we all know what’s taking the headlines, but there are a few others I’ll mention. ABC is reporting on his strong answer to middle east affairs, so that’s a plus in our bucket. The Post has another trash piece on his and Senator Rodham’s time in Yale, claiming she has anger issues and gave him a black eye.” George looked up at everyone. “I know that he will not comment on that, so that’s our statement.” He went back to his notes, only one prominent story left. “The last story has been covered by more than a few reporters,” George held up the cover of the New York Times “‘Her Fall from Grace’…” he read.

There were more than a few chuckles from the group at that phrasing.

George read the first few lines. ‘Governor Clinton once again showed us his compassionate side as he rushed to the aide of his rival… She even latched onto him as they walked off the stage and he tenderly guided her off… The familiarity between them is unusual and begs the question, do they still secretly have feelings for each other?’

George left them silent, asking the same question themselves.

One staffer made his voice heard. “You can’t seriously think… I mean come on!” And another, “George, you know him. He wouldn’t…” And another. “Impossible, just spin.”

George took the last angle, choosing his words carefully so a not to reveal anything he knew. “The Governor assures us that he is committed to this campaign and that any former relationship with the Senator from New York is not applicable to how he would perform as President…” That was their go to statement and George didn’t care to elaborate.

He tried to move the group forward. “Let’s move on to…”

The door opened without warning. “Governor Clinton, I was just…” George stuttered when he looked to the door and found not the expected Governor, but the mob of their rivals, the Rodham staff.

Two of her top staffers lead the way and stopped dead in their tracks when they opened the door to reveal an already full room. “Hey what they hell…” They looked just as surprised to meet their opponents face to face. “We have a 9:00 meeting in here!”

“Yea, so do we!” James from the Clinton staff met the team at the door with his arms crossed and his eyes squared. Standstill, nobody moved or gave up their ground.

“Huma!” The Rodham staffer called back into their group of about 30 people currently lining the hallway right outside.

Huma stepped into the front, her optimistic face falling when she peeked in and saw the room occupants.

“Huma, you said 9:00… and you’re sure she said this building and conference room?”

“Yes I’m sure! That’s what she said over the phone.” Huma assured her team.

“Who said so?” James stepped up to Huma as she was obviously the one in the know. “Governor Clinton personally requested this room for 9:00.” He was ready to get to the bottom of this.

Huma put this new information with her own information. Her deduction, it would pan out to be a highly intense morning. Huma answered his original question. “Senator Rodham. She said she scheduled this room. I got a phone call from her yesterday afternoon.”

“Why the fuck would she tell you that? Look we have a lot of work to do on an actual winning campaign, so I suggest…”

Huma ignored the man’s bluster and pivoted to George. His face was alarmingly pale, his eyes rolled back in his head, and his mouth scrunched into a frustratingly tight knot. She knew he read her mind.

“James, cool it.” He stopped any argument, rubbing his hands through his soon to be graying hair. “Team Rodham… Come in.”

Huma ushered the hallway dwellers into the open spaces in the now extremely crowded room. As the teams shuffled together, questions pierced the tension. “What are they doing here?” “What’s going on?” “Where’s Governor Clinton?”

It was then that the sounds outside filtered into the room. The rolling of wheels and police sirens were heard in the distance, getting louder as they approached. The deafening wail stopped as all heads turned to the side windows.

George peeked out the window and saw the cars line up at the entrance. He snickered. “I wonder whose it is?”

Huma spoke so only he could hear. “George, you know those distinctions have no meaning anymore.”

He knew. Something was about to happen. “We entered this room rivals, I’m willing to bet we leave forced onto the same team.” He wasn’t sure which one would be leading that team. “What do you know?” he asked Huma.

Huma sighed. “Nothing I’m willing to share right now. But I have no idea what they have up their sleeves with this meeting.”

They watched as Governor Clinton exited the one side of the town car and Senator Rodham exited the other. She waited for him to round the car before reaching for his hand which he gladly relented to her. They walked through the front doors and disappeared from their view.

“They’re coming,” George nodded to the staff, giving them time to look sharp.

“They?” Someone inquired, vocalizing the word choice everyone else was questioning.

Less than a minute later, the conference room door opened. The Senator stepped through wearing a polite smile on an otherwise detached face. Looking much improved from the last time either staff saw her, she wore a white long sleeved ribbed jacket and black slacks with light pink heels and a confident gait. The Governor stepped in behind her in his traditional suit and tie and, in contrast, externalized his emotions with slightly hunched shoulders and tight lips.

They stood front and center. She held her hands in front of her and he hid his hands in his pockets. Each consciously stood a foot apart from the other, very aware of the eyes focused directly on them and the ears tuned to the pair’s every sound. The tension in the room was palpable. … the silence descended like the quiet before the firing squad began shooting.

* * *

The hour meeting wasn’t even close to enough time for them to answer all their staff questions, alleviate their curiosities, and, for some, release their frustration and anger.

“Why weren’t we told in advance of your close relationship, and now marriage?” “If you’re giving up you’re aspirations for a baby, what message does that send to your supporters?” “We’ve dedicated months and months to see you become our nominee, and you're giving it up to be a housewife?” “How are we to respond to the press questions about this?”

All valid questions, some they could answer, some they couldn’t.

“That could have gone better…” she lamented climbing in their armored van.

He blew out a puff of air. “But it could have been worse.” He buckled his seatbelt. “They didn’t kill each other before we got there.”

“But they certainly didn’t become the best of friends.” Her eyes were glued straight ahead, deep in thought. “They’ll have to get used to each other pretty quickly. The convention’s next week.”

He nodded, very aware of the timing.

She continued, her political hat on. “We’ll need all of them if we want a comprehensive agenda, strategic schedule…”

“If they’re even willing to give me their support.” He doubted.

“They will,” she stated, firm in her conviction. “They’re working for both of us, at least, that’s how I see it.”

He tilted his head towards her, noticing she did the same. Their eyes meeting, questioning the other’s perception of their new collective campaign.

He reached over for her hand in her lap. “That’s exactly how I see it. Our campaign and our fight.”

She gripped his fingers in her lap. “We’ll win,” she stated, absolutely convinced.

“I know we will,” he agreed with the ease of confidence she emanated. “We’re unstoppable together.”

She snickered, rolling her eyes at him. “Do you think the world’s ready for that?”

His lips curled upwards in a grin. “Not at all, honey. Not at all.”

* * *

**2 Days later**

“This just in! We are watching live footage of Governor Clinton’s latest rally. The speech is the same, but Clinton is causing front page headlines. A wedding ring is now visible on his left ring finger. Only days before the Democratic Convention and with his only opponent dropping out due to a medical issue, Governor Clinton will be the Democratic Candidate and, if he wins, the next President of the United States. It appears, he will in fact have a First Lady by his side. Who that is, we don’t yet know.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! I'm not sure how much I like this chapter, but you all deserve an update! Only one more to go! Thanks again for all your comments. Purely fiction.

“She’s here,” George peeked his head into the green room backstage where the Democratic Nominee paced with his remarks in his hand and his lips moving to the words.

It was the second night of the Democratic National Convention in New York City, the night Bill Clinton would officially become the Democratic Nominee for President of the United States. He was still in a state of elation, mixed with nerves and an enormous sense of responsibility. With his brief acceptance remarks prepared, he spent his time working on his speech delivery, practicing on his newly combined senior staff surrounding him.

His intense focus flew out the window as soon as George’s mouth opened. Upon hearing that news, Bill immediately felt a heap of worries rise from his shoulders. She was here. That was all he needed.

He nodded at his staff member and placed his speech in his pocket. “Can y’all give me a moment?”

The other occupants filed out one by one full of giddy anticipation of the momentous occasion about to occur. With the max exit, there was only one person who pushed upstream and slipped into the room, causing the staff to turn their heads and vocalize their enthusiasm upon seeing her. She returned the generous greetings, that is until she saw the man of the hour with elation emanating from his whole being.

She greeted him with her own adrenaline pulsing from her every pore. “Hi honey! I could barely make it through the door without being seen! The press is everywhere. We circled the building at least 3 times before we found an entrance without a crowd…”

Her next words were forced into her mouth by his lips crashing into hers with the urgency of a husband who had not seen his wife for the past few days. He crouched down and quickly rose with her in his arms, lifting her off the ground by her waist and spinning her in a whirling circle.

“Bill!” she threw her head back in laughter.

“I’m so glad to see you!” he squeezed her tighter before setting her back on her feet.

She held him at arms length. “You look sharp.” She scanned his impeccably tailored black suit and blue tie. “I love the tie.” She gave it a little tug and let her eyes move back to his.

“And I love you,” he answered leaning in to kiss her forehead. “You look wonderful.” She wore a smart royal blue pantsuit, the color matching his tie, with her hair fluffed and pulled back to frame her face. He took a sniff of her hair. “And you smell even better.”

True to form, she brushed off his compliment and went right to the details. “Are you ready?”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t think anyone is every ready.”

She understood. “Let me see it.”

He gladly took out his short remarks accepting the nomination from his pocket for her examination.

With the concentration of a brain surgeon, she fixated herself on the words while settling herself in one of the numerous chairs scattered around the room.

He continued his pacing and reciting the memorized words with her as his audience.

After a few debates on wording and her pen marks rewriting parts, both were satisfied with the speech.

Feeling even more comfortable with her beside her, he flipped her original question back at her. “Are you ready?”

“Does it matter if I am or not?” she said with a snarky overtone, covering up for her stomach turning over with nerves. “Ready of not, I’ll be introduced as the next potential First Lady beside my past opponent. Then after half an hour of political commentary the whole nation will be convinced this is merely a business arrangement and I married you for your new position. Who wouldn’t be ready for that story to break?”

He let her rant, knowing what she said was true, unfortunately. He didn’t want that for her, he didn’t want that for them. Yet they made a decision with no regrets, welcoming the firing squad and ready to dodge the bullets together.

“Hill…” he smirked at her, putting on his boyish charm that never failed to descaled her.

She knew what he was trying to do, and she needed it. She lifted her arms, asking him to come to her. Standing from her chair, she snaked her arms around his neck, the pads of her fingers stroking over his shoulders and her nails gently scratching the nape of his neck. She tilted her head, silently asking him to lower his so their lips could touch. They shared loving light pecks, reveling in their connection. As his hands spread across her back, he dragged his lips from hers to her cheek and eventually to her ear lobe. In his thickest accent, he reminded her why they were putting themselves through all the certain backlash and criticism about to pounce. “I love you and I need you.”

“I know,” she whispered back. The sentiment and want was reciprocated. “I love and need you too.”

A knock on the door frame made them both turn their heads. “It’s time,” the stage hand informed the pair.

With one last collective breath, their hands traveled down the other’s body until the limbs settled with their own person. He let her walk in front of him, her confident, self-assured armor on full display rubbed off on him. He squared his jaw, lifted his gaze, and flexed his fingers ready for this moment.

They walked into the hall, following the convention staff in charge of executing 4 smooth nights. The staff lined the hall, talking with urgency, remembering their tight schedule and the pressure of the moment. The pair concentrated on putting one step in front of another, not the countless stares they received from everyone in the hall and peeking out of side rooms. All those participating at the convention wanted to catch a glimpse of their next nominee getting ready to accept the nomination. But none of them expected to see his previous opponent walking with him.

The stage hand leading them gave them an update on how they were to proceed. “Governor, you’ll enter first and deliver your speech, after which, Senator, you’ll join him onstage…”

“No…” the nominee interrupted, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead, the adrenaline and slight anxiety keeping him grounded. “We should walk out together tonight. Create a picture, get them used to it.”

“I agree,” she added, also focused on where she was going. “I’ll stand to the side as you speak and then we’ll greet the crowd together.”

With the stage hand talking into his headset, working to make that change, the pair spoke quietly to each other. “What do we do? Should we hold hands?” she asked.

“Hold hands I think.” He answered, though as clueless as her as to how they should present themselves. “Can I kiss you? On the cheek?”

She shook her head. “Only after your speech. Anything excess will look too forced.”

“Alright,” he agreed.

“Act natural, comfortable. Here, hold my hand?” She took his hand in hers as they reached the edge of the stage.

From her spot, she could make out a sliver of the audience through a crack in the curtain. Not an empty seat could be found.

“Take a look.” She pulled him behind her so he too could see.

The speaker currently on stage raised her voice as she made a point and the audience rose with a energizing cheer.

“My God,” he said almost breathless, swallowing as the nerves and adrenaline kicked in once again.

“All for you,” she stroked his hand as it rested on her shoulder. Her pride in him absolutely overflowing.

He squeezed her shoulder, so thankful for her. “One day, they will be cheering for you. I just know it.”

She pressed her lips together. Of course he knew what was going through her mind. “Maybe,” she mouthed so even he could not hear. She took his hand in hers and brought it to her waist. Neither had to verbalize the reason for her action. As both their hands rested on her stomach, they reminded themselves why they were both there in the positions they were that night. The future would play out as destiny saw fit, but they would have no regrets.

“Standby,” a stage hand caught their attention.

Pulling away from her, he ran his hand down her arm and laced his fingers with hers. Both prepared themselves for their new life they were about to walk into.

He pulled her over to the set of double doors that split center stage, their grand entrance point. The lighting went almost completely dark and the crowd roared with anticipation, knowing their nominee was soon to appear. The pair backstage listened silently to the voice echoing over the speakers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the next President of the United States and the next First Lady…” The boisterous crowd, that had begun to rev up for the first name to be called, grew eerily quiet upon hearing that a second person would also enter and her identity be revealed.

The speaker took a dramatic pause before announcing, “William Jefferson Clinton and Hillary Rodham Clinton.”

Doors flung open, lights turned hot shining their glow on the revealed pair. In synch, step by step, they walked out to the people: hands clasped, smiles turned on, and eluding the confidence necessary for the positions they strived for. The music was barely audible over the roar of the audience. They held up their CLINTON signs, now representing both of the people on stage.

They moved to their right, waving their free hand and making eye contact with as many people as possible. Moving to the left, they repeated the same motions, raising their heads to catch a glimpse of the vast expanse of the crowd practically encircling them.

They returned to the center stage where the podium with his speech sat, though he couldn’t begin even if he wanted to. The crowd continued their cheers and chants, sending him into a euphoric state. She felt a tug on her hand as he leaned into her ear. “Well, they’re cheering! That’s a good sign.”

She pulled back smiling, basking in the moment as much as he was. She then tilted her head to his ear. “For now, honey. Let’s not get too optimistic.” She was cautious, but didn’t let that internal doubt spoil their jovial mood.

He turned back to the audience. Deciding the applause was sufficient, he took his place at the podium, her right beside him.

“Thank you,” he called, raising both hands to try and calm the audience. “Thank you so much.”

She scanned the faces she could make out. His mother, brother, friends from Arkansas, her mother and brothers. She saw her fellow Senators, faces lit up but clearly still in shock and bewilderment. She tried not to linger on their reaction and looked back to her husband who had the crowd entranced by his words.

“Tonight… tonight I just want to say thank you. I look forward to Thursday when I can address this fantastic crowd in more depth…” They cheered at that. “But… I am even more excited for tomorrow when you’ll hear from your Senator… the future First Lady… and the woman I am so grateful to, finally, publicly call my wife… Hillary Rodham Clinton.”

As the applause rose again, he turned to his wife. She reached for his hand and he let her have it. Her other hand waved at the large crowd, thankful for the current support and soaking it all in while she could.

They turned to look at each other. She nodded her head, encouraging him to continue with his speech.

Stepping up to the podium once again, he kept her hand in his as he continued. “Now that we’ve thrown one bombshell at you tonight…” They laughed. “…I have one more extremely happy announcement…” He paused before dropping the bomb. “…We’re expecting our first child in February.” More reactionary cheers greeted the absolutely beaming future parents. They didn’t need to present any type of fake reaction.

They knew this crowd would be over enthusiastic. They would face the real test in the upcoming days as their news sank in.

Managing to close his remarks on a high, he raised his hands to the nation. “…And God bless the United States of America!”

With a million dollar smile, he stepped back so he was now beside her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and she laced her at his waist.

She met his bright eyes with hers. When he leaned in to kiss her temple, she whispered to him, “Here we go…”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing and coming up with ideas for these stories, but I hate ending them and feel I get lazy as time goes on... but I like this ending. I always imagined them dancing to this song at Hillary's Inaugural Ball...
> 
> Thank you for your comments! Purely Fiction!

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the President and First Lady of the United States; Bill Clinton and Hillary Rodham Clinton!”

From the back of the crowd, the newly sworn in President strolled into the room beside the newly resigned Senator. They cut through the crowd of people, taking in the congratulations that hadn’t stopped since the day after the election. Everyone was dressed to the nines to welcome the couple on their first night in Washington.

With the brutally fought campaign in the past, they could bask in the fact that the majority of the American people supported them, marriage and baby included.

Taking their stage, he held her arm as she lead them to the center.

Trailing his hand down her arm, he turned her to him. “You look beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered, holding her hands in his and staring into her deep blue eyes. Her 8 month belly, the signature feature of her dress, was highlighted by the gold sparkling lace that hugged her new curves and flowed to her feet in ripples.

“Thank you,” she whispered back. She tugged his black tie and straighten the lapels of his smart tux. “You look pretty fine yourself.”

Ready for their first dance, she raised her arms. But he slipped past her to walk towards the band. After whispering something and getting a thumbs up, he twisted the microphone so he could speak.

“Being that I’m the more musical in our family…” he looked over at Hillary who was in the dark over what his announcement was about. “…I was put in charge of music selection. Now if you know anything about Hillary,” he paused for effect. “You know she hates surprises.”

The rowdy, excited crowd laughed heartily.

Hillary pressed her lips together, raised her eyebrows, and nodded her head, confirming her husband’s analysis.

“And it’s even harder to keep a surprise a secret without her finding out. Well, I told her I chose a classic jazz piece for our first dance, but I wouldn't tell her which one.”

She tilted her head and ran her tongue over her teeth, anxious about what he had done.

He lowered his head, taking a pause to collect his thoughts. “We heard this song back when we first met in 1972, and it’s stuck with me ever since. I think it perfectly conveys how much I need her in my life. Now, I look back and realize all that I was missing. The trust, companionship, and love that I lacked in my life for the past 17 years is now manifested in one person… one person I cannot get along without.”

With his devotion felt throughout the room, the band struck the first chords.

Immediately recognizing the song, she raised her hand, beckoning him to her and claiming her dance. He grasped her hand, briefly bringing it to his lips before tugging her closer to him.

_I get along without you very well,_   
_Of course I do._   
_Except when soft rains fall_   
_And drip from leaves, then I recall_   
_The thrill of being sheltered in your arms._   
_Of course, I do,_   
_But I get along without you very well._

As her rounded body melted into his, his arm circled around her waist as far as it could reach pulling her impossibly closer. She raised her arm and slowly laid it down on his shoulder. Both pair of eyes were now glazed over, only managing to focus on the image directly in front of them.

_I've forgotten you just like I should,_   
_Of course I have,_   
_Except to hear your name,_   
_Or someone's laugh that is the same,_   
_But I've forgotten you just like I should._

For 20 years, the all too familiar dance never left either’s mind. They stepped lightly, completely in sync, twirling slowly around the stage. His cheek found hers, like a magnet and her hand automatically slid to the nape of his neck.

_What a guy, what a fool am I,_   
_To think my breaking heart could kid the moon._   
_What's in store? Should I phone once more?_   
_No, it's best that I stick to my tune._

She felt a wetness gather on her cheek. “Honey,” she whispered into his ear. “Are you crying?”

He nodded burying his nose into her neck.

With a loving giggle, she stroked her fingers through the base of his hair. “You’re the one who chose the song.”

“I know,” he mumbled against her skin. “I wanted to surprise you with a romantic memory, but I think I surprised myself.”

She too felt the tide of emotion drumming inside her, but all of the world didn’t get to see that. She would save it for when they were alone and she could express to him how much his thoughtfulness meant to her.

When he raised his head a moment later, any tears must have been deposited on her shoulder because his cheeks were now dry and his eyes shining with energy and absolute adoration.

“Better?” she asked with a smile that challenged his for adoration level.

He nodded and leaned into her once more; this time to place his lips on her cheek for a quick kiss, hidden from any camera.

_I get along without you very well,_   
_Of course I do,_   
_Except perhaps in Spring,_   
_But I should never think of Spring,_   
_For that would surely break my heart in two._

Their everlasting spring had arrived. As the last notes echoed through the room, he pulled back to look into the eyes of the person who had always encompassed the meaning in his own life, who he couldn’t get along without.

“Thank God for you, Hill. Thank God for you.”


End file.
